Divine Intervention
by Loten
Summary: The Immortals Quartet: Emperor Mage, written from Numair's perspective. Sequel to Power. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

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_**Author's Note: **__Here we are at the beginning of the third book of the series. This one is going to be a little different to what you've seen before; I think from Numair's point of view this is the worst book of the series for him. I do put him through absolute hell, I must admit. There won't be quite so much fluffy humour in this book, just because from his perspective it's really not that funny. That being said, this is me we're talking about, so you can expect a certain amount of silliness to lighten the mood, and some more of the sarcasm that everyone seems to love._

_On the subject of silliness, I'm mildly disturbed by the way everyone adored the last chapter of Power. You all loved my utterly ridiculous epilogue; this says nothing good about any of you, I hope you realise!_

_My focus for this book wasn't so much on the action – Numair was only peripherally involved in most of that anyway – but on his psychological reactions to what was happening. As I mentioned briefly in Wolf-Speaker, Carthak is Numair's own personal private hell. To go back to it must have had a staggering effect. And then to have his old enemy kidnap his best friend... And that's before we touch on the execution, or the Graveyard Hag, or Varice. It's not going to be a fun time for him._

_So, here we set the scene; this takes place several months before the book itself begins. Numair's about to learn what will happen to him. Poor mage. Once again, this story is dedicated to all my reviewers; I also want to say thank you to Lady Grace of Masbolle, who has nominated Power to the Knighthood of Ficship competition; both my stories have been nominated now, and I still can't quite believe it. Thank you all so much._

_**Obligatory Disclaimer: **__Work it out for yourselves.

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_

"You wanted to see me?" Numair asked as he entered Jonathan's study. The king looked up, his expression difficult to read.

"Yes. I assume you've heard about the proposed peace talks with Carthak?"

Numair snorted. "_Everyone's _heard about them by now. What about it?"

"I'd like to hear your thoughts."

"Honestly?" At Jon's nod, Numair took a breath. "You're wasting your time. I don't know what Ozorne wants from you, but I can't see him being remotely interested in a peace accord. We have nothing he couldn't try to take by force; he doesn't care about the lives of his soldiers. I suppose some sort of trading agreement might be necessary with the drought in Carthak, but a formal treaty doesn't make sense."

"Go on."

"In the past three years there has been a lot of evidence that Carthak is conspiring against us. Sinthya's plots came to nothing because he was too much a coward to continue once he'd been discovered, but the attack on Pirate's Swoop wasn't a small-scale plan. If we'd lost there, we'd have found that it was only the first move in a long and bloody war. If you take into account the Dunlath rebellion as well... Not to mention all the problems with immortals being unleashed throughout the Eastern Lands. Ozorne's not interested in peace, we know that."

"We _know _nothing of the sort. Carthak has officially denied all knowledge of any of these events," Jonathan replied in a neutral tone. "But your point is well made. The empire poses a threat to us, one we cannot hope to neutralise by force. To put it simply, Numair, we need to make peace one way or another."

"Then why is it Ozorne who's proposed to discuss peace? He's dealing from a position of strength. He has no need to make a deal with us, which is what worries me. Everything he does is always for his benefit; he has no other motivation. I can't see how he would benefit from this, but he will."

"So in your opinion there is no way that these talks can possibly succeed?"

"I'm reluctant to say 'never' about anything, Jon, but no, I don't see any chance of success. He's up to something."

"You knew him for a long time, didn't you?"

Numair shrugged. "I thought I did, once."

Jonathan hesitated, drumming his fingers on the desk. "I agree that this seems suspicious. Why now? We've heard nothing from Carthak since Dunlath. But we may have very little choice. I'm sending Gareth of Naxen and his son to head the delegation, and Lord Martin; they're the best diplomats we have. I'm giving serious consideration to sending Alanna, as well, to reinforce the message that they have the full backing of the crown."

"She'll love that," Numair remarked sarcastically, smiling slightly, before a faint suspicion stirred in the back of his mind. "Jon, why are you telling me this? You'd already made up your mind about the talks before you called me here. What does any of this have to do with me?"

The king looked at him, and he went cold at the expression in those blue eyes. He knew the answer before Jon even said anything. "No."

"Numair – "

"No. I am _not _going."

"Numair, listen to me. This isn't some sadistic whim of mine; I know you don't want to go. Ozorne asked for you specifically. Look at this." The king held up a sheet of paper. "This is an imperial decree absolving you of all past crimes and granting you freedom within Carthak as part of the Tortallan delegation. There are a few restrictions, naturally, but it is surprisingly liberal. He says it is a goodwill gesture, to assure us that he's serious about these talks. And it makes sense. You know Carthak well, you're familiar with the court, and you know Ozorne; in addition, you're good at politics and you know a lot about law."

Numair barely heard a word Jon was saying. There was a buzzing in his ears, and he felt very cold. The only thing he'd managed to absorb from what he'd just been told was that Ozorne wanted him back in Carthak. Fear threatened to choke him; Numair wasn't afraid of many things, but Ozorne was one of them. Memories that he'd buried years ago stirred, and he began to tremble, feeling his breath coming faster. "Jonathan. Are you completely insane?"

"Not in the least, I assure you. The document is legitimate, and as a Tortallan ambassador you are under the same protection as the others. No harm can come to you unless you break imperial law."

"I can't go back to Carthak."

"This is not open to discussion. I've made my decision."

"You don't understand. I'm not saying I won't go. I'm saying I can't." He was finding it difficult to breathe. All his old nightmares were crowding in on him once more; if he closed his eyes, he knew, he would see the dungeons again. He could almost smell the blood. "Please, Jon. I'm begging you, please, don't make me do this."

"I'm sorry, Numair, I truly am, but this treaty is too important." He added, more softly, "Besides, this way you can keep an eye on Daine."

Her name jolted him, dislodging the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. "Daine? What's she got to do with this?"

"The emperor keeps rare birds, I understand. Several of them have developed an unidentified disease; nobody there can heal them. He has heard of Daine's magic with animals and wants her to look at them. It's a request, not a demand; I cannot in good conscience say no, and she seems interested."

Those damned birds were the only things Ozorne cared about apart from himself. Numair supposed it made sense; but Carthak would be hideously dangerous, and he didn't want Daine involved. Then again, the instant she'd heard 'sick birds' he'd lost any chance he might have had of talking her out of it.

Jonathan sounded impatient. "Numair, don't be stupid. She'll be perfectly safe, and so will everyone else. This is a peaceful negotiation, not an invasion. What on earth do you think is going to happen?"

"You don't understand," he muttered, clasping his hands together to try and stop them shaking. Just the thought of returning to Carthak again terrified him. The imperial pardon made no difference; Ozorne truly hated him, and if he'd asked for him to return then he was planning to kill him. Numair had barely escaped with his life last time; he wasn't sure he could do it again.

"Then explain it to me."

"I... I can't. But... Jonathan. Your Majesty. Please, by every god, please don't ask me to go to Carthak again." He was prepared to go down on his knees and beg if necessary.

Jonathan took a deep breath, his expression showing reluctance for a moment before a hint of steel entered his voice. "I hate to do this, Numair, but I'm not asking you, I'm giving you an order. You _will _join the delegation to Carthak."

* * *

Under the circumstances, Numair decided that his reaction was perfectly understandable. He'd managed to hold himself together until he was back in his own rooms and the door had closed behind him; safe behind his private wards, he'd started shaking and struggling for air, and to his shame it had developed into a full-blown panic attack of the kind he hadn't had in seven years or more. When he could focus again, he'd decided that he needed to stop thinking and give himself time to accept it, and now he was so drunk he could barely remember his name. It wasn't really helping; the alcohol had blotted out everything _except _the fact that he was going back to Carthak and to Ozorne. He suspected there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make him forget that, but he was prepared to give it a try.

Someone was knocking on the door. He stared blankly at the wood for a while, debating whether or not to open it, and decided not to. He didn't want to see anyone right now. Shaking his head slowly, he took another drink; by now he wasn't entirely sure what he was drinking. There seemed to be more empty bottles on the table in front of him than he could reliably account for.

The door opened somewhat hesitantly, which meant it would be Daine; nobody else was allowed through his wards. "Numair?"

For once, Numair wasn't very pleased to see his student. He didn't want company at the moment, and he certainly didn't want her to see him like this. "Daine," he replied levelly. Unlike a lot of people, he seldom lost the ability to speak or walk when he was drunk, no matter how much he had; it was only the change in his mood that showed him to be intoxicated. When he drank, Numair lost his sense of humour and turned morose and cynical, becoming depressed and unpleasant to be around; one reason he seldom touched alcohol.

"You missed dinner. Is everything all right? Jon said you seemed strange when you left him..."

"Hah. That's one way of putting it."

She stood and stared at him for a long moment. "Are you _drunk?_"

"What gave it away?" he asked sarcastically, topping up his glass.

"I've never seen you drunk before," she said uncertainly.

"Haven't you?"

"Stop it, Numair. What's wrong?"

"What could _possibly _be wrong? My returning to Carthak is such a wonderful idea that I can't understand why I never thought of it before. It will be a lovely holiday for me."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he snapped. "Would I be sitting here by myself if I wanted to talk?"

A flicker of hurt crossed Daine's face before her jaw tightened. "I'll leave you to it, then," she said stiffly, turning away. He almost let her go, but he hadn't quite drunk that much yet.

"Daine, wait." She stopped, but didn't turn around. Sighing, Numair put his drink down and rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm not a nice person to be around when I'm drunk. It's not personal, I promise. I shouldn't be taking it out on you. I just... I don't know. Don't go. Please."

Turning her head, Daine looked at him sideways for a long moment and hesitated before coming back into the room and closing the door. Silently, she sat down opposite him, and after a moment he began to talk quietly with only the faintest slur to his voice.

"I had an unpleasant shock earlier. I assume Jon told you he's sending me with the delegation. Ozorne's asked for me to go back, and I don't know why, and... it frightened me. More than frightened, really. I can't deal with it yet; I need time to think about it, and I can't at the moment. I don't want to go back. I'd almost rather kill myself than go back there. Drinking isn't helping, and I shouldn't have done it, really. I'm not a nice drunk, as you can see." He rubbed his eyes, feeling very tired and afraid.

After a long moment Daine reached out and touched his hand; opening his eyes, ignoring the way the room spun, he focused on her face. "It's all right. I know why you don't want to go back – well, most of it. Seeing you like this was just a shock."

He tried to smile. "This is why I don't drink much. It turns me into someone I don't like. I'm sorry, magelet."

"Are you scared?"

"Yes. I don't know what's going to happen. But I'll be all right; I just need time to think things through. You could do me a favour, though," he added, changing the subject.

"What?"

"Don't let anyone come and wake me up tomorrow. I'm going to be very hung over and I'd rather be left to recover in my own time."

She giggled. "Is a hangover really that bad?"

"When you've drunk as much as I have tonight, yes. I suppose that's one thing I shouldn't be teaching you, so consider this an object lesson. Don't."

"All right." She stood up and paused. "It might not be that bad," she said comfortingly. "I'm going, too, if that helps."

"Actually, it does," he replied, summoning a smile. "I can't think of better company." That was true, as far as it went. He was going to be desperately worried about her the entire time, but he would miss her terribly if she wasn't there and there was nobody else he would rather have at his side. Just talking to her had made him feel a little better; besides, he had a plan of sorts. Apparently not all drunken ideas were bad. Once he was sober, he would contact Lindhall and ask for help. "It's late, Daine. Go to bed. I'll be all right when I've sobered up. And thank you for coming to check up on me."

* * *

_This isn't much like the Numair we all know and love, is it? I think under the circumstances he's entitled to a little bit of a breakdown, though. It won't last long. You won't get to see him contacting Lindhall again; I couldn't get it to sound right. But I'm working on it, and it will probably end up in that collection of one-shots I've been talking about. _

_I know, Jon was being very harsh. But he's a king, and that's what he has to do. I assure you, he hated doing it. _

_I liked the idea of Numair becoming a totally different person when he was drunk. Originally that was going to play a larger role, both in this book and in Realms of the Gods, but I overlooked one thing; drunk and unpleasant Numair is a real pain to write. So this is probably the only time you'll see it. It's not in character for him, but that's sort of the point. The next chapter will be the start of the canon material, several months after this prologue, by which time I assure you Numair will have fully recovered and be only mildly stressed out instead of a total wreck._

_Let the games begin!_

_**Loten.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

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_Lots of long and thoughtful reviews this time, which was very helpful; thanks, guys. In this instalment, we arrive in Carthak, and Numair meets some old friends; he also spectacularly fails to realise something fairly important.

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_

A single cabin made a horrendously poor choice of meeting place. Numair was doing his best to keep as out of the way as possible, but with his height and build there was only so much he could do. Daine was half-squashed against the cabin wall as it was, and she still tried to move over further, Kitten attempting to curl up tighter in her lap; he smiled at them both for the effort. "Thank you, Daine. And you, Kitten."

"It's only for a bit," Daine answered encouragingly; she'd been trying to cheer him up the entire voyage.

"If we don't wrap this up soon, _I _will be only 'a bit'," Alanna complained from where she sat uncomfortably close on his other side. He nodded agreement but couldn't help thinking that she ought to try being his size for a while; he could barely breathe.

"No one can listen to us, magically or physically?" Duke Gareth asked. There were half a dozen mages in the room; all nodded, and Numair answered.

"It's as safe as our magic can make it, Your Grace."

The duke smiled. "Then we are safe indeed." The smile faded, and everyone in the room braced themselves for yet another lecture; they were all getting tired of hearing this. "Let me remind all of you one last time: _be very careful _regarding your actions while we are here. Do _nothing _to jeopardise our mission. The emperor is willing to make peace – " Numair kept his thoughts to himself on that subject "– but that peace is in no manner secure. If negotiations fall through due to an error on our parts, the other Eastern Lands will not support us. We will be on our own, and Carthak will be on _us._"

There was a short pause before the duke continued. "We _need _this peace. We cannot match the imperial armies and navy, any more than we can match imperial wealth. In a fight on Tortallan soil, we _might _prevail, but war of any kind would be long and costly, in terms of lives and in terms of resources."

Alanna spoke up; Numair didn't have enough room to turn and see her face, but he could practically hear her scowling. "Do we have to bow and scrape and tug our forelocks then, sir? We don't want to seem weak to these southerners, do we?"

Duke Gareth shook his head. "No, but neither should we take risks – particularly not you." Most in the room struggled not to laugh as the duke continued his instructions.

"Go nowhere we are forbidden to go. Do not speak of freedom to the slaves. However we may dislike the practice, it would be unwise to show that dislike publicly. Accept no gifts, boxes, or paper from _anyone _unless they come with the knowledge of the emperor. _Offer _no gifts or pieces of paper to anyone. I understand it is the custom of the palace mages to scatter listening spells through the building and grounds." Numair nodded bleakly; it was more a survival attempt than a custom, mostly. Someone else's secret could buy you imperial favour, and that could save your life. The duke continued, "Watch what you say. If a problem arises, let my son, or Lord Martin, or Master Numair know _at once._"

A thought that had occurred to Numair previously surfaced again. "Kitten will be able to detect listening spells," he remarked. "I'm not saying she can't be magicked, but most of the common sorceries won't fool her." The dragon chirped agreement, drawing Duke Gareth's attention to her and Daine.

"Daine, be careful. You'll be on your own more than the rest of us, though it's my hope that if you can help his birds, the emperor will let you be. Those birds are his only weakness, I think." True. Numair held his tongue; the problem was that if Daine could _not _help the birds, the negotiations had even less chance of succeeding, and the personal risk to all of them would soar.

Lord Martin spoke up. "You understand the rules?" he asked, leaning forward to look sternly at her. "No childish pranks. Mind your manners, and do as you're told." On Numair's other side, Alanna stiffened; Kitten squawked in outrage, and Numair himself was hard pressed to keep his temper even as he reached to silence the dragon.

"Daine understands these things quite well," he said pointedly, gently sliding his thumb under Kitten's muzzle to block her whistles. "I trust her judgement, and have done so on far more dangerous missions than this." The smile that earned him was worth the attention now fixed on him.

"We would not have brought her if we believed otherwise," Duke Gareth said soothingly, before turning stern once more. "Remember, Master Numair, you, too, must be careful. The emperor was extraordinarily gracious to grant a pardon to you, and to allow you to meet with scholars at the palace. Don't forget the conditions of that pardon. If he catches you in wrongdoing, he will be able to arrest, try, even execute you, and we will be helpless to stop him."

_No! Really? You don't say. _He bit his tongue and smiled crookedly instead; did Gareth really think he didn't know all this? The only reason for the pardon was to lure him back here so he could be set up to be executed; he'd known that from the start. Hopefully his contingency plans would be enough; he had prepared as well as he could. "Believe me, Your Grace, I don't plan to give Ozorne any excuse to rescind my pardon. I was in his dungeons once and see no reason to repeat the experience." That one brief sentence hid a great deal of pain; he still had scars. Keeping his face expressionless, he was relieved when the duke nodded and looked back at the group as a whole.

"Now, my friends – it is time we prepared to dock. I hope that Mithros will bless our company with the light of wisdom, and that the Goddess will grant us patience."

"So mote it be," Numair murmured with the others. He knew better than anyone else in the room just how slim their chances of success were. There was one good thing about their arrival, though; at least he could get off the damned ship. He hadn't been _quite _as ill as Alanna, but he suspected that was just because he had been too wound up to eat very much.

* * *

He'd lost the argument over clothing in the end. He didn't like wearing the black robe at the best of times, and when he was trying to keep a low profile and avoid provoking Ozorne it seemed a very bad idea indeed – not to mention that, as he had always maintained, a full-length black robe was _hot_, especially in Carthak's heat. But this was a formal occasion, and as he wasn't a member of the nobility he needed every scrap of status at his command, or so he had been told.

Staring blindly out at the approaching dock, trying not to dwell on the last time he'd seen it, it took Numair a moment to notice the animals lined up along the shore; a smile tugged briefly at his lips when he did see them, although the expression didn't last. He knew when Daine approached the rail, because every dog, cat and bird began calling to her in a deafening mixture of sounds that caught everyone by surprise and caused more than a few signs against evil to be made. Ordinarily it would have made him laugh a little, but this close to Thak's Gate he had too much on his mind; inwardly he admitted he was terrified.

Barely aware that the animals had quietened down and begun to leave, he almost didn't hear Daine ask, "Are you all right? Is something wrong?"

"No, magelet," he answered softly, not quite a lie; nothing was wrong, _yet_. "And I am as well as may be expected." After a moment he added sombrely, "I can't say which prospect makes me more apprehensive – that of meeting old friends, or old enemies."

"Old enemies, surely?"

"I don't know. I was very different then." That was an understatement. He was extremely grateful that none of his friends in Tortall had known him when he was younger; he didn't like the person he had been then. "And you know what the wise men say – 'Only birds can return to their old nests'." He shook his head and looked down at her for the first time, smiling in surprise as he saw her and speaking without thinking. "Mithros bless. _You _look very pretty."

She went scarlet as Kitten chortled. "You think so, really?" she asked shyly. "I know I don't hold a candle to Alanna, or the queen – "

Numair held up a hand to stop her as he always did when she doubted anything about herself, oddly interested in this change of topic. "That isn't strictly accurate," he said almost thoughtfully. "The Lioness is one of my dearest friends, but she is _not _an exemplar of female beauty. Years and experience have given her charm, and her eyes are extraordinary, but she is not beautiful. Queen Thayet is astoundingly attractive, it's true, but you have your own – something." He gave her an exaggerated stare, making her giggle, and smiled. "You should wear blue more often. It brings out matching shades in your eyes." He noticed that she was wearing the sapphires he had given her last Midwinter and felt pleased.

"I heard that about _my _looks," Alanna said behind him, making him jump. "I'll get you later." She would, too, he admitted to himself wryly. The Lioness too smiled at Daine. "You do look good."

Daine blushed again. "Thanks. So do you." The others joined them, halting the conversation – possibly just as well, he realised belatedly. They weren't in the palace any more and nobody here was going to be friendly; best to avoid anything even vaguely inappropriate, never mind that the conversation had been joking.

Not listening to the conversation any more, it took a moment before he felt Daine tug his sleeve. She whispered, "I need to talk to you as soon as you can manage. It's really, really important." He nodded absently, staring at the dock once more as the ship was tied off. This was it; he swallowed hard and concentrated on breathing.

* * *

"His Imperial Highness, Prince Kaddar Gazanoi Iliniat, Head of House Khazoi, Prince of Siraj..." Numair switched off. The list of titles alone could go on for up to ten minutes if the herald listed them all; he'd forgotten what it was like to be in a court that insisted on all the ceremony that Jon despised. Hearing the familiar scratch of silver claws moving somewhere they shouldn't go, he automatically looked for Daine and Kitten and found the dragon taking an interest in the galley slaves; that could be bad. Watching from the corner of his eye, he winced in sympathy as the whip cracked, seeing the expression on Daine's face as she returned to the group with a subdued dragonet. Silently he passed his handkerchief over as the others began one by one to move forward and bow to the prince.

The next few minutes were a blur of endless titles and formalities, most of which went straight over his head. This was just the welcoming committee; most of those here weren't going to be part of the official negotiations anyway. Which was just as well, because his mind was a long way away and he had no hope of memorising all the names and faces. He nodded politely with everyone else, letting the introductions wash over him until a familiar name caught his ear and he smiled, stepping forward to embrace Lindhall, the one person he'd been looking forward to seeing again.

It had been eight long years since he'd last seen his friend and former teacher. He hadn't dared contact Lindhall after leaving Carthak, not until he'd eventually ended up at the Tortallan court and found a secure home for himself years after his exile. Since then they had written to one another occasionally, and once he had been ordered back here he'd immediately contacted the older mage to start making plans; neither of them had had much faith in Ozorne's pardon.

Lindhall looked exactly the same as he had then, save perhaps for a few more lines at the corners of his eyes and a few more grey hairs amongst the gold. The two men smiled at one another.

"Arram, welcome, if that is the proper word." It had been a long time since anyone had called him Arram; Lindhall's voice, too, was the same as he remembered. To his surprise, Numair felt his eyes sting a little; he really had missed this man.

"I'm surprised you remembered our arrival," he answered after a moment, his voice a little rough. "I thought I'd have to root you out of your workroom." Most of his bad study habits had been learned from Lindhall, as his friends would no doubt soon discover.

"No, no," Lindhall protested, smiling. "I have a good assistant, better than you were." He grinned at that; it wouldn't have been difficult. He and Lindhall had been too much alike, both far too easily distracted. "She keeps track of everything. Unfortunately, she's about to go live with the merfolk and study their culture. I hear they're moving in all along the Tortallan coast. I'd thought they'd live in rookeries, like sea lions, but their nature appears to be more tribal. And you are Arram's student," he added without pausing for breath, making Daine jump and Numair smile.

"He wrote me so much about you," Lindhall continued, and Numair's smile turned wry; that was an understatement, actually, once he'd got started. To his amused delight, his teacher and his student began discussing bats; he realised just how important it was to him that they get along. Lindhall had been almost family to him for a long time, and Daine was... Daine. His student, his comrade in arms, his best friend.

"I don't like to interrupt," he said now, his tone apologetic. He wanted them to be friends, but there were more important matters to deal with now, things to sort out that might quite literally mean the difference between life and death. "But, Lindhall, I have questions that require answers. Forgive me, both of you."

* * *

Once he had literally dragged Lindhall away to where they could talk relatively privately, he turned to face his old teacher. "Well?" he asked tensely.

Lindhall nodded slowly. "It arrived safely the day before yesterday. I have to say, it's very impressive, disturbingly so in some ways." He paused, then continued. "It might work."

Numair relaxed a little; this was his main contingency plan, the one upon which so much might depend if everything went as badly as he feared. "You think so?"

"Yes, with luck." The two men shared a crooked smile before Numair continued cautiously.

"And your own plans?"

Lindhall shook his head slightly. "Not now. One thing at a time."

Fair enough; he nodded agreement as his teacher looked back towards Daine. Recognising the other man's expression, Numair grinned. "You can talk to her later, I promise."

Lindhall smiled almost guiltily. "I'm sorry, Arram – Numair. I know this is more important. But..."

He nodded. "I know. She knows more than I ever dreamed of learning about animals; truthfully, she's taught me more than I ever managed to teach her."

"You're very proud of her, aren't you?"

"Yes," he replied, smiling, much preferring to discuss Daine than look at the army now lining the banks on both sides; such a subtle display of power, that. "Honestly, she's the main reason I'm here. Call me cynical, but for some reason I just don't trust Ozorne," he added sarcastically.

"You think she's at risk?"

"You don't?" he responded, and after a moment Lindhall nodded fractionally.

"In truth, you may all be in more danger than we first suspected. Things have been very... unsettled of late. There have been some unusual omens throughout the empire, and rumours are everywhere that the gods are angry."

"Oh, joy," he whispered tiredly. "Just what I wanted to hear."

"It gets better," Lindhall warned him, but they were interrupted as another barge slid past their own; Numair knew what was coming the instant he spotted the monkey in the river, and put a hand over his eyes.

"Oh, dear," he murmured, the only one present not in the least surprised when Daine dived overboard. Sighing, trying to fight back a smile, he walked over to the rail and watched her swim towards the struggling animal. Lindhall joined him, staring.

"Does this sort of thing happen often?"

"You have _no _idea," he informed his old friend, laughter in his voice for the first time in weeks. Shaking his head wryly, he reached out a hand sparkling with black fire and carefully lifted girl and animal back onto the deck of the barge.

As he had suspected, Daine had acted without thinking. Now, as it gradually dawned on her what had happened, she went absolutely crimson with embarrassment as everyone on the barge stared at her, standing dripping in a spreading puddle of river water; he tried to keep silent, he really did, but someone giggled and someone else snorted and then Numair lost the battle to remain serious. Doubling over, he laughed until he cried.

* * *

Hours later he was wishing fervently that they were still on the barge, or better yet not in the country at all. The all too familiar formality and show of the Carthak imperial court surrounded them, and he was so scared he wanted to throw up. Worse, he didn't dare show it; of everyone in the room, he could have showed the depths of his fear to Daine, and perhaps to Lindhall and Alanna, but not the others. Biting his lip, he forced himself to concentrate on his breathing, keeping an outward show of calm. Harailt's jokes, worse than his own, helped, for all that the other mage was actually trying to cheer up a nervous Daine.

"Numair, why didn't you tell us about this light spell?" Harailt asked now, the sound of his name jolting Numair out of his brooding. "To have steady, strong illumination – "

_What? Oh. The lights. _Truthfully, he hadn't noticed they were different. "They didn't have it when I was here," he answered absently. "They did something with glass balls, but they faded after a short time. These aren't glass." He really didn't care much.

"The globes are filled with crystals," Lindhall explained; he focused on his friend's voice to drown out the screaming in the back of his head. "Remind me and I'll have one of the craft mages explain it for you." The door creaked open, startling all of them. "You'll be all right, Arram – I'm sorry – Numair?"

The concern in Lindhall's voice, combined with the slip over his name, made it easier to force a smile. "I have to be, don't I?" he replied; answering honestly wouldn't help anyone, and lying would be too obvious. He took a deep breath that felt like his last as the group began to move forward. "Here we go, into the presence of the one and only Emperor Mage," he muttered, barely aware that he was speaking aloud. "Huzzah."

Ozorne looked much as Numair had expected. There was absolutely no trace of the boy who had befriended him all those years ago; instead he was every inch the emperor in his full power, nothing left but arrogant disdain, just the way he had looked when he had taken the imperial throne and when he had had Numair arrested.

Numair skulked at the back of the group and wished that his friends were taller, to make it easier to hide behind them. He bowed when they did and nearly sagged with relief when it became clear that Ozorne didn't intend to acknowledge his presence in any way; _Gods, let that hold true for the whole visit. _Relearning how to breathe, he backed off, and watched anxiously as Daine was presented; apparently recovered from the river, she looked beautiful once more, but he barely noticed this time.

To his immense relief, the whole party emerged unscathed from this first meeting; sternly he told himself not to be stupid. Nothing was going to happen in a setting like this in full view of everyone. His nerves were getting the better of him, that was all. It was something of a relief to sit down next to Daine as the others of their group gathered around.

"Are you all right?" he asked the girl, who looked a little shell-shocked. He touched her cheek gently. "I had forgotten how intimidating he can be when he has all his imperialness on."

"I noticed," she answered dryly; she was all right, it seemed. "Are _you _all right?" she asked him, and he almost laughed; once again, his student was taking over the role of worrier for the pair of them. "Did he say anything to you?"

He smiled at her, letting her see his relief. "No. If I'm lucky, he'll ignore me for the rest of our stay. That's how he always managed such things when we were boys, anyway. If someone bested him at anything, he just pretended that person didn't exist. He got to be very good at it," he added a little nastily, and bit his tongue before he said anything else.

"It went quite well," Duke Gareth said. "You did us credit, Daine."

She blushed and smiled. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"So far, so good," Lindhall commented, arriving with the servants who brought drinks. "Numair, did he speak to you?"

"He didn't even look at me," he answered thankfully. "He spoke the most with Daine," he added, giving Lindhall a pointed look.

"But what about his birds?" Daine asked. "I came all this way to see them and he didn't mention them at all."

"Rulers don't act as other men," the duke told her before Numair could say anything. "All requirements of protocol must be met before personal considerations may intrude. You must be patient until he sends for you."

Patience had never been Daine's strong suit, as Numair well knew. "But more of them might get sick then," she argued, thankfully in a low voice; he caught her eye and raised a finger to his lips, giving her his best stern look. Usually she ignored that totally, but for once she listened to him and fell silent, although not without sighing.

"_Arram._"

That voice, so totally unexpected, short-circuited something in his brain. Turning, all he could do was gape for a long moment, utterly stunned; she was the last person he had expected to see. Lindhall had never mentioned that she was still at court; then again, he had never asked. She still looked like the girl he'd been obsessed with so long ago, not seeming to have changed at all. He found his voice on the second or third attempt, standing up shakily. "Varice?"

* * *

_Oh my, lots of interesting things in this chapter. Hey look, it's Lindhall! I really like him. He'll be appearing quite often. Plus, TP says he was based on Sir David Attenborough; how awesome is that? (For those who don't know, he's a fantastic wildlife presenter and a national treasure for us Brits). Also, I know it was a little mean of Numair to laugh at Daine like that, but really, can you blame him? It was funny!_

_What else... Ah, yes, Numair failing to register that it's a little strange for him to suddenly notice that Daine is pretty. He is completely clueless at times, isn't he? Believe me, it gets a lot worse. And Varice has shown up. I don't like her very much, but I'm not a hater; she is, however, almost impossible for me to write, because I truly do not understand her, so she won't be appearing all that often._

_Numair isn't feeling too bad, this chapter. Unfortunately for him, that's not going to last. Coming next: lots of personal problems, foreshadowing by the bucketload, and another old acquaintance – who is one of my absolute favourites to write just because of his sense of humour. Reviews, please?_

_**Loten.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_There's an important note __at the end of the chapter __that you should read.

* * *

_

It was some time later before Numair realised that he'd completely forgotten about his friends. The last half an hour had passed in a haze, talking to Varice; he still found it hard to accept that she was here. In a way, he was disappointed for her; she deserved better than working for Ozorne. But she was happy, it seemed, proud of the life she had here, and he was happy to let her talk while he tried to catch up.

Seeing her so unexpectedly, after so long, on an evening when he felt so strange was almost too much to deal with; the more so perhaps because he had never really worked out what he felt for her. They were laughing and flirting with one another now as though he had never been away, just as they always had, but what exactly did that mean?

They had been lovers for two years, more or less. It was the only real long-lasting relationship he'd had. Maybe that was why he felt so confused now? He had been in love with her, or thought he had at the time, although he was no longer sure; and it was possible she had loved him as well. There was no man in her life now, she had told him, and he recognised an invitation when he heard it, but...

He couldn't trust her, Numair realised dismally. Her life was here, and from the way she talked of her work he knew she would never consider the possibility of anything else. She certainly wasn't here for the sake of other people, as Lindhall was. Maybe that was why he had not asked her to leave with him all those years ago, because he knew she would say no. He would have liked to tell himself that it was because he hadn't wanted to endanger her, but he had been far too selfish then for such thoughts.

More importantly right now, though, was the fact that he knew he wasn't likely to learn anything he needed to know from Varice; at least, not until she had finished telling him what she wanted him to know, as opposed to what he'd asked her. That, too, hadn't changed. And he didn't really want to tell her much about what he had been doing; partly because it would sooner or later filter back to Ozorne, and some things weren't safe to talk about, but there was more to it than that. His life in Tortall wasn't connected to Carthak, and he wanted to keep it that way. In a strange way, it was none of her business. Besides, she wouldn't understand most of it. Letting her talk, he looked around the room, wondering what had happened to everyone else.

The dais where Ozorne had been sitting glowed with magic; the Emperor Mage was up to his old tricks, it seemed. Numair recognised the simulacrum and smiled inwardly; it was the same as he remembered. Ozorne hadn't learned that particular art as well as he himself now had; that had been a gamble, but it seemed he'd been right. But where _was _Ozorne? One look around the room told him that the emperor wasn't there. More importantly by far, nor was Daine that he could see; suddenly cold, he scanned the room. Duke Gareth caught his eye eventually and made a vaguely birdlike movement with one hand; he relaxed a little. The aviary would be safe enough for now; in any case, Lindhall would be with them. He turned back to Varice, met her smile with one of his own.

* * *

Waking up was difficult. His head was muzzy, his thoughts thick and slow. It felt like he had a hangover, except his headache wasn't anywhere near bad enough for that; and anyway, he hadn't had anything to drink last night, had he? He remembered wanting to and stopping himself. Maybe his dreams had left him feeling strange this morning... he didn't remember them clearly, but he'd had the distinct impression that someone had been trying to tell him something important.

The details eluded him, but it wasn't his most pressing problem right now, because he had slowly realised that he wasn't alone in the room. Opening one eye a slit, he glimpsed a once-familiar face and hastily closed his eyes again, a sickening feeling rolling through him; it took a moment for him to realise that what he felt was shame. Last night had been a mistake. Despite all his experience and reputation, he'd never had cause to regret a night with a woman before now.

He'd spent the evening with Varice yesterday; she'd said they should catch up on everything they'd missed, but he'd been silent most of the time. She'd talked enough for both of them, telling him all about her rise to her present position as... entertainer, as far as he could tell, or maybe glorified chef. She hadn't asked about what he'd been doing, and he'd been in no mood to volunteer anything; besides, he thought gloomily, she wouldn't have understood. They had never had much in common and had always had different priorities.

Even though he hadn't drunk anything but water all evening, he'd felt intoxicated, in that heavy slow way as unconsciousness drew nearer. Even her mindless conversation had seemed an almost unbearable effort. And when finally the party had drawn to a close and she had laughingly led him to his room it had been easier not to resist; truthfully, by then he couldn't really think of a reason why he should.

Now Numair lay silently, barely daring to breathe in case he woke her, and spent a few minutes quietly hating himself before his more introspective nature stirred and he settled to working out why exactly he felt so badly about what had happened. They were both single, and she was still as lovely as he remembered; all the motivation he had ever needed. So what had changed?

He had, he realised. She was still more or less the exact same person he had known all those years ago, but he wasn't. He'd seen and done too much; to find her still the shallow, self-concerned girl he'd known was somehow a disappointment, even though he had never expected to meet her at all. That wasn't fair to her, he knew, but he couldn't sort out his muddled thoughts enough to express it properly. Throughout the endless evening he'd been comparing her to his female friends – Daine, Alanna, Onua, Thayet, Buri – and, depressingly, had found her lacking in every respect. Her mindless chatter had irritated him, as had her supreme lack of attention to anything he might have to say, but mostly it had just depressed him to confront how shallow he must have been then to have found her as wondrous as he remembered.

His head was spinning. It would have been nice to get up now, to wash, shave and dress and go outside to find some fresh air before the day grew hot; but to do so would wake Varice and he really didn't want to face her. Had they gone to her room last night instead of his he would have been tempted to simply sneak out, something he had never done before.

In the end he took the coward's way out and feigned illness, shutting himself in the cramped space set aside as a bathroom and making convincing noises in between insincere apologies until she left. Hating himself, he felt the nausea turn from pretend to real and threw up until his stomach cramped and he felt dizzy; no more than he deserved. Resting his head against the cool stone of the wall, eyes closed, he wondered what on earth he was going to do and wished desperately that he was anywhere else but Carthak.

* * *

The tour of the menagerie seemed endless. He'd seen it all before anyway, but if he had to walk around it he would have preferred to do so in the company of Daine and Lindhall, when the three of them could have a meaningful discussion about the animals and he might actually enjoy himself. Instead he was trailing after Duke Gareth and Varice at the latter's insistence, occasionally answering a question someone asked but mostly keeping silent. Everyone else seemed happy enough; especially Daine, who by the look of things was deep in conversation with every animal in the place.

Numair wasn't particularly surprised when she wandered off. Taking an opportunity when nobody was talking to him, he followed, recalling belatedly that she had asked to speak to him yesterday about something important and he had forgotten all about it. He found her around a bend in the path, looking down into a pit with the abstracted expression she always wore when communicating with animals; coming up alongside her, he was surprised to see the pit's occupants.

"Spotted hyenas," he said softly, automatically resuming the role of teacher for a moment; it wasn't a role he got to play much any more. "From the grass plains of Ekallatum, far to the south. Night hunters, for the most part – see the eyes? They have the strongest bite of any mortal predator – it crushes even the bones of water buffalo. Hyena packs are matriarchal – "

"Matri-what?" she interrupted, echoed by a soft whistle from Kitten; he had to smile. It had been a long time since he'd used a word she didn't know.

"Their society is ruled by females. Each pack is led by sisters," he explained wryly, not at all surprised when she grinned at him.

"Sensible of them," she told him, and he almost laughed; his retort was cut off by Varice, of all people.

"Excuse me. I'm sorry. These animals aren't to be shown to visitors. I don't know why the emperor keeps them, when he doesn't even like them... Numair, Daine, please come back. There's another part of the menagerie you haven't seen." She linked her arm through his and all but dragged him away; he bit his lip to keep from saying something nasty. At least she'd finally remembered to stop calling him Arram.

Kitten screeched when they saw the other collection in the menagerie. Daine silenced her, but didn't look any happier than the dragon. For his own part, Numair was just as startled and sickened; this had been built since he'd left, obviously. Why had Ozorne done it? For fun, just because he could? Numair didn't like the dangerous immortals that were being held here, and a large part of his daily life generally involved hunting them, but to cage them like this was... wrong. And the Stormwings...

Daine seemed to echo his thoughts, turning to Kaddar. "I thought your uncle was allied with the Stormwings!"

"He is," the prince replied. "The price of the pact with the Stormwing King Jokhun was that Queen Barzha and her mate Hebakh be kept here. Believe me, she would have caused as much havoc in Carthak as Stormwings have in the north, if my uncle had not made the alliance."

If that were true, then more power to the unsavoury pair, frankly. Numair saw the look on Daine's face; she was trembling. Moving forward, he rested a hand on her shoulder warningly, but she shook him off.

"What do you feed them?" she asked. "Do you bring folk in and scare them, so they can live on that? And these cages are too small. The griffin can barely open its wings." All true. He felt like joining Kitten in what sounded like curses from the tone. Even for Ozorne, this was... Well, actually, now that he thought about it, it was absolutely typical of the emperor.

"They don't need food, and they don't require more room," Varice said impatiently, and he bit his already sore lip to keep from saying something he might regret. At this rate he would have drawn blood by noon. "You know these monsters don't fall ill and die. Unless you kill one, they live forever. Would you rather let them raid villages and destroy crops?"

Frankly, yes. Especially since not all of them would do such things. There were peaceful centaurs caged alongside the predatory ones, and griffins were benign unless their young were threatened. Duke Gareth intervened, which was probably just as well, and changed the subject firmly; Numair trailed after the rest of the group, giving Daine a sympathetic look that she didn't see.

* * *

Noon brought the opening banquet, something else he had been dreading. Varice had talked of almost nothing else yesterday and this morning, and he'd known what to expect long before the food was served. The smell alone was enough to make him nauseous; he'd never liked this sort of food anyway. Add his usual problem with travelling anywhere and the fact that he was where he least wanted to be, and he knew he couldn't force down any of it.

Staring grimly down at the plate – he barely recognised half the dishes Varice had served him (without asking him) – he tried to think of a solution that wouldn't result in him being ill again. A paw touched his knee, startling him, and when he looked down two dogs were giving him expert begging looks. He'd seen enough animals begging him for food to recognise professionalism when he saw it; this pair rivalled the wolf pups of the Long Lake pack for pleading eyes. Turning, he found Daine looking at him and gave her an extremely grateful look before returning his attention to deftly palming the food and passing it to his new companions.

As he did so, a vague thought crossed his mind; he'd known Varice almost ten years, been her lover for almost two, and she hadn't remembered he didn't like exotic food. That was sad. Shaking it off, he cautiously picked at the parts of his meal that he was prepared to risk eating, passing the rest of it to the two dogs; it had been years since he'd done any sleight of hand tricks, but he still remembered how. It was fun, almost, and a welcome distraction from his thoughts.

After the meal the talks began in earnest. Setting the tone for how the rest of the negotiations were likely to proceed, Ozorne gave a long speech full of the purest hypocrisy and lies Numair had ever heard; his lip was getting sore again. Duke Gareth's reply wasn't much better; both sides were pretending not to know what had really happened. Then more speeches, and more, and all over the room people were rapidly losing the will to live. Numair usually enjoyed politics and negotiation, but this had no chance of success and the speeches really were mind-numbingly tedious. He looked around; Alanna's eyes had glazed over, Gareth the Younger was struggling to hold back a yawn, and Daine looked almost asleep. Taking pity on his student, Numair caught Duke Gareth's eye and glanced at her; the duke nodded fractionally and gestured to one of the clerks.

"Can't I go, too?" Alanna whispered plaintively, causing several nearby members of their group to nearly start laughing; Duke Gareth gave her and everyone else a stern look as Daine slipped out, followed by Lindhall. Left behind, Numair reluctantly tried to pay attention to the speeches once more. He hadn't realised that Ozorne would choose death by boredom for his execution.

* * *

It had been the longest afternoon of his life. He had never been so bored before; especially as by the time all the opening speeches were complete there was really only time to decide what would be discussed the next day before everyone had to leave to change for dinner. The evening itself didn't promise to be much more interesting; he'd never enjoyed making small talk with people he didn't know or trust. By now a headache had developed behind his left eye, one of the persistent kind that would linger for days without ever quite getting bad enough to justify trying to treat it.

At least it had cooled down a little; even after so long, he could still cope with Carthak's heat, but not when he had to wear the damned black robe all day. Numair was currently talking to the Gallan ambassador, whose name he had long since forgotten; his side of the conversation was consisting mostly of nodding and smiling and wishing that the older man would go away.

After what seemed hours, the ambassador finally bowed and walked off to find someone else to bore; turning away gratefully, Numair caught sight of Daine nearby and smiled. It was still a surprise to see her in formal clothing; Thayet had chosen her wardrobe well. "You're becoming a young lady," he told her, brushing back a loose curl from her cheek; he added with a smile, "If I'm not careful, you'll be grown and married to a deserving fellow before I realise it."

She completely ignored him, which was probably just as well – where had that come from? "When can we talk?" she demanded, sounding irritated. Small wonder, as he realised guiltily that he'd forgotten again that she wanted to speak to him about something. "You've got to find a way, somehow. It may be fair important."

It must be, for her grammar to slip that badly; he hadn't heard that in months. "'It _may be_'?" he queried.

"I don't know. I'm not sure." She seemed agitated and he frowned, starting to feel nervous; generally when she was this upset it was not a good sign. "I spoke to the badger yesterday."

_What? _"Where?"

"Aboard ship. In my cabin. He was – " She hesitated. "– Not himself."

His frown deepened; this was definitely bad. "_Not _– " The doors opened and he stopped before saying anything else. "Very well – I'll try to develop some opportunity," he promised hastily, vaguely aware that he was slipping linguistically as well; he didn't normally use so many words per sentence now. "They've scheduled these meetings so tightly we barely have time to scratch, let alone talk," he added sourly as they moved forward, his mind already moving; the badger's comings and goings usually passed him by. For Daine to be warning him, something bad was going to happen. Lindhall's warnings from yesterday crossed his mind and he felt sour fear twist his stomach once more; the last thing they needed was divine intervention right now.

Looking around the room, he noticed the arrival of two male Stormwings. One of them landed to talk to Ozorne, but it was the other who caught his attention and stopped him thinking about what Daine had told him. "Daine, isn't that – from Dunlath?" he asked uncertainly; he'd only seen the immortal very briefly.

"None other," she said after a moment, looking as enthusiastic as he felt. "How nice for us all. We can have a reunion." The two of them moved to join the others as Ozorne introduced the pair; having to bow to a Stormwing clearly grated on most of the party.

"We've met," the blond Stormwing – Rikash – said coldly when Daine and Numair reached them.

"_Moonsword?_" Daine asked mockingly. "That's very pretty." Numair struggled not to laugh as the immortal grimaced.

"My ancestors were a sentimental lot," he said, sounding almost embarrassed. "I know you, too, mage," he added, giving Numair an unfriendly look. "I remember the onion bomb you threw at me." Numair bit back another smile; he remembered, too. _Still the best spell I ever invented._

Ozorne smiled as well, coldly. "Lord Rikash, did you not say the wild animals of Dunlath behaved oddly?"

"I certainly did," Rikash answered sourly, evidently still bothered by that. Numair bit his lip once more; Ozorne had officially denied any involvement in the Dunlath rebellion, he reminded himself sternly. One thing to be grateful for; nobody had mentioned Tristan.

"You have Daine to thank," the emperor said. "She is bonded to animals through wild magic." The expression on the Stormwing's face was priceless.

"This visit gets better all the time, doesn't it?" he muttered as they moved away. Daine nodded heartfelt agreement; Carthak had lost what little charm it might have had for both of them, it seemed.

"_There _you are." Once again, the voice that interrupted them was Varice; Numair felt a flash of irritation as the woman swept over and took him to a distant seat. At least nobody else was next to him; when Varice moved off to attend to some other bewildering but apparently essential task, he could just sit and think without being obliged to make small talk. One of the dogs from earlier settled by his feet hopefully and he fed the animal without really paying much attention; he'd stopped eating game when Daine had, after several experiences with hunters, on the basis that it was easier since they spent so much time together. It wasn't as if he cared one way or the other what he ate, and he didn't want to upset her.

Right now Numair was actually relieved to have been seated away from everyone else. He couldn't have faced talking and laughing, pretending everything was all right. It was all he could do to give rehearsed responses to the few remarks addressed to him and to reply politely when Varice spoke to him. He'd forgotten how much her voice grated sometimes, or maybe hadn't wanted to remember; once he had thought he loved her, but at this moment he just wanted her to shut up and leave him alone. It saddened him, in a way, but it was too much effort to think about it tonight.

It seemed that being left alone to sit and think wasn't the blessing he had first thought it to be. Time to brood about where he was and what had happened before wasn't going to do him any good, nor was time to worry over what might happen now. Most of the entertainment provided had passed him by completely – he wasn't an adolescent boy any more, to stare at contortionists whilst pretending to do no such thing – but he paid more attention when the Banjiku entered the room, watching with a faint smile as their animals immediately headed straight for Daine.

Numair liked the Banjiku. As a student he had been the only one to talk to them about their magic; it had taken him a long time to realise that he was the only one who knew they _had_ magic, because nobody else could see it. He hadn't known wild magic existed until that point; it had taken a great deal of confused research before he'd worked out what he was seeing. They had taught him much of what he had known about wild magic when he met Daine. He could also understand a little of their language, although he couldn't really speak it, and wandered over to listen to the conversation.

What he heard startled him, effectively jolting him out of his brooding; listening to Daine's embarrassed denial, he considered the idea, frowning slightly._ A_ _god?_ Ordinarily he would have dismissed the idea, but... well, it made sense, in a strange way. He had long since suspected that Daine's magic was not merely human; none of those he had taught wild magic to before had been able to do any of the things she took for granted, and he had never heard of anyone as powerful as she was. And he trusted the Banjiku's instincts, up to a point. Besides, he had realised years ago that it was unwise to rule out anything where Daine was concerned, no matter how bizarre.

That was definitely something to speculate about later; and something to research, if he made it home to his books and those of the royal library. For now, he translated the Banjiku's remarks quietly, watching her face to see her reaction. "They think it's too bad that you don't know your father. They wish they knew his name. They would sacrifice to him and ask him to visit their daughters as he did your mother." Her expression was a mystery, too many emotions for him to pinpoint easily, and he was conscious of Ozorne watching them.

Reluctantly heading back to his seat, he sat and watched the Banjiku perform, his mind far away as he thought. This was certainly better for him than sitting and worrying; a new puzzle to think about would do more for his peace of mind than anything else. Besides, the possible implications were fascinating, especially as Daine herself hadn't seemed as surprised as he would have expected.

* * *

He was feeling much more like himself as the meal ended, and was deep in conversation with Daine and Lindhall about griffins when Rikash chose to rejoin them.

"Still consorting with tree rats, I see," the immortal told Daine, who only smiled at his tone.

"Now you know what disease the Dunlath animals had."

"Was that you, shape-changed?"

"Not then. I had just learned how to put myself within an animal's mind. Flicker and that eagle were helping me."

"Shape-shifting goes with that skill," the immortal pointed out, to Numair's surprise; how had the Stormwing known that? Maybe there was more animal in them than he had suspected. That was worth thinking about later, as well. "I would have thought you would know that by now."

He grinned at Rikash. "She does," he replied.

"How delightful for us all," was the dry response. "I must remember to give Tortall a wide berth." Rikash dug his claws into the brass that he stood on, producing an appalling noise that resurrected Numair's headache and drove Lindhall away entirely.

"We were having a nice talk before you came," Daine informed the immortal acidly.

"I am devastated to have ruined your fun," Rikash replied flippantly, before an almost embarrassed look crossed his face and he looked down. "Do you hear from Maura of Dunlath?" he asked in a small voice.

For a moment Numair almost felt sorry for the thing. Almost. "She writes Daine often."

"She misses you," Daine added, apparently feeling the same way. "She says her guardian is nice, but he doesn't have your sense of humour. You _could _visit her, you know. She'd like that."

A definitely embarrassed Stormwing picked at the metal under his claws. "I must remain here with King Jokhun, for now," he replied. "I believe my stay will not endure for much longer, and then I may be free to pursue my own life. If that is the case, I would like to see Maura again."

Teasing the immortal was fun, but something in that last reply caught Numair's instincts. "Oh?" he responded cautiously. "It sounds as if you anticipate a momentous event. What is it?"

That earned him a sharp look, followed by an unpleasant grin. "Finish your business here quickly, mage. Carthak's unhealthy. It will get worse before it gets better." Another warning; Numair got the message. Something was very wrong here. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it.

Rikash looked at Daine once more. "Frankly, I'm surprised to find either of you at this court. Is it wise to make a peace with the man who tried to overthrow your king?"

_Of course not. _"It's very wise, if the greatest army and navy are on your enemy's side," Numair replied as sarcastically as possible.

Daine fiddled with her necklace. "It's no different from what you did, is it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rikash asked irritably as he flattened the torn metal of his perch once more.

"Don't play the innocent." Apparently the brief moment of sympathy was over; Rikash was about to pay the price for Daine having to hold her tongue all day. That was a relief; Numair had thought it would be him who bore the brunt of it. It usually was. "We've _seen _the menagerie, _Lord _Rikash. They have one of your queens and her consort here." Kitten whistled in agreement; Rikash glared.

"You are wrong," the immortal said flatly. "There are no queens missing from the other flocks, and I have no queen in mine. The old one was slain in combat by King Jokhun, after our custom."

That was strange; Numair thought the Stormwing was actually telling the truth. "Then maybe the prince was mistaken," he said casually, watching the immortal carefully. "He seemed convinced that Barzha was a queen."

Visibly startling at the name, Rikash fidgeted, his feathers rattling. "_What _did you say her name was?"

"Barzha," Daine repeated, apparently more interested in petting Kitten; she'd caught on quickly. "Her consort was named Hebakh. The prince said their being in a cage here was the price of the alliance with King Jokhun." The Stormwing frowned harder, a strange expression crossing his face, then abruptly took off without saying anything more.

"I wonder where he was going," Numair murmured, to himself as much as to his friend. "Is it possible he did not know of Ozorne's special menagerie? And what was that about the health of Carthak?" She didn't answer, and after a while he went in search of Lindhall.

What his old friend told him was not good news. There had been omens and portents all across the empire for years, almost since Ozorne had been crowned, but in the last three years things had taken a turn for the worse. He had known about the famines already, but there had been other, more definite signs; the seers and prophets had been ranting for months about falling stars and visions of blood, and reports were coming in from outlying areas of mutilated animals and deformed births. Most of it was probably nothing more than rumour and superstition, but some of the omens were genuine and the whole empire was uneasy. It was widely known now that Ozorne no longer acknowledged the gods; that was a very dangerous game to play. The emperor seemed to have forgotten that he was mortal like everyone else.

* * *

_It's Rikash! He's absolutely wonderful to write. You'll be seeing more of him later. Now, I'm aware that this all seems a little disjointed and jumpy; it's supposed to. At this point Numair is beyond confused and finding it very difficult to concentrate on anything for very long. I know that sounds like an excuse, but it's honestly how I see this playing out from his point of view. Everything that's come up here, he'll be thinking about more later on. And yes, Numair did sleep with Varice; I've read stories where he turned her down, and whilst I would prefer that, it just wouldn't happen. Whatever else our hero is, he's also a man, and he's not going to say no. Bad Numair._

_I considered trying for a lot more detail in the negotiations, but decided not to for several reasons. One, I know nothing whatsoever about this kind of politics, unless watching The West Wing counts. Two, I don't think it would make for very interesting reading unless that's someone's particular interest. Three, I'm pretty sure Numair wasn't listening very closely; he doesn't have much incentive, since he's convinced that it's all a colossal waste of time._

_Also, don't you find it strange that nobody referred to Tristan at any point? Numair turned one of Carthak's pre-eminent mages into a tree. Even if Ozorne's pretending that it was nothing to do with him, you'd think someone might have mentioned it.  
_

_A brief progress report on Realms of the Gods; I have about half a dozen scenes left to write, and the ending needs work, but it's almost finished. It's going to be quite a bit longer than the others; in the end I didn't have the heart to cut out any of the extra material. I somehow don't think anyone's going to mind!_

_Now the important note, folks; I want to run an idea past you. I'd started a note explaining a few things about my take on Numair and Varice's relationship; that's several pages long now, so I won't be adding it in here. I'm putting together a kind of essay about Numair, explaining my view of him and how he interacts with other people and why I think he is the way he is. My question is, would this be something you'd want to read? And if so, does it belong here on this site? It's not precisely fanfiction, but I don't think it breaks the terms and conditions. I'd like to put it up on here so I can go into more detail about things I couldn't work in to my stories. I might turn it into a kind of Frequently Asked Questions, as well, so if there's something that's always puzzled you about him or if you want my take on something I could add it in. What do you all think? People have been asking questions about certain things, and it's impossible to answer in depth in a review response, so I thought this would be a good way of explaining myself a little more. (Plus, it's a psychological analysis of Numair; what's not to like?) Seriously though, what do you all think of this idea?_

_As always, keep your reviews coming._

_**Loten.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_A lot happens in a short time in this one.

* * *

_

When they rejoined the others out on the terrace, it was to find Daine once more speaking to Rikash; something in the Stormwing's attitude had changed dramatically, although Numair couldn't have said what.

"Veralidaine and Lord Rikash," Ozorne said, his voice a drawl that indicated he thought he was being amusing. It was odd to hear Daine's full name; nobody ever used it. "Now here is an odd pairing. We had heard this young lady hates Stormwings."

The immortal shrugged. "We value a good enemy, Imperial Majesty. If I may be permitted to say so, opponents come in many guises. It is well to get to know them all." Skulking at the back of the group, Numair frowned a little at that; was it a warning or a threat? Daine looked puzzled, but Ozorne nodded as though he knew what Rikash had meant. Numair doubted he did.

"Forgive me for my departure earlier," the Stormwing continued, "but I had thought of a gift to make you, as a personal token of my appreciation for our association. It would be my very great pleasure if you would accept it." Rikash nodded to Daine, his green eyes glittering. "Give it to him, please."

Looking confused, Daine carefully picked up one of the Stormwing's metal feathers from the railing and offered it to Ozorne, who took it with a meaningless diplomatic smile. "Is some _particular _virtue attached to this gift?" the emperor asked. Numair frowned, unseen behind everyone else; the Stormwing's voice had sounded strange, and the look in his eyes seemed a little too eager.

"Indeed," the immortal replied smoothly. "Any such token from an immortal has – qualities." Out of the corner of his eye, Numair noticed Daine reach to fiddle with her necklace, but he was too caught up in trying to work out what was going on between Stormwing and emperor. "Heed me," Rikash continued, his voice intently serious now. "If ever you are in peril of life and throne – and it must be peril that drives you, not curiosity – take this feather and thrust it into your flesh. When it mixes with your blood, you will fly from your enemies as if winged with steel, and escape beyond the Black God's reach for all time."

Numair almost swore aloud as he realised what Rikash had just said, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep silent. The only one who noticed was Lindhall, who frowned at him; Numair shook his head slightly, having no intention of sharing this particular discovery with anyone just yet. Nobody else seemed to have caught the meaning behind the Stormwing's words; then again, nobody else had Numair's advantages and they couldn't see the magic shimmering around the feather. After a moment, though, he frowned; he thought he had guessed what the Stormwing was up to, but was it even possible? _Oh, gods, I need access to a library right now._

"Neither our life nor our throne is in peril, Lord Rikash," Ozorne replied evenly, and Numair breathed again; the emperor hadn't seen the trap being laid for him – if it _was _a trap. "Nor do we believe they ever will be. Our hold on our empire is firm indeed." He had to bite his already bleeding lip again to keep from laughing at that. _Actually, I don't believe it's as firm as you think_.

"But the wheel turns," Rikash replied, unruffled. "What is up may come down; what is brought low may rise. The gods are not fickle – but they have been known to change their minds. One day you will know the value of Stormwing esteem." The immortal bowed to the emperor, and Numair understood that this was both threat and warning. Something big was coming, and Rikash was part of it. What it meant for the Tortallan party, he had no idea, but Carthak was definitely as unhealthy as the immortal had said.

The Stormwing gave Daine an ironic look. "I never know what to make of you," he told her dryly. "I suppose I never will." With that parting shot, he was gone, leaving a lot of confused people behind him; Numair rubbed his temples in a vain attempt to ease his headache, wondering where this unexpected development would lead.

* * *

The evening had gone downhill after that, for Numair at least. He still wasn't feeling well and suspected that wouldn't change until he was back on Tortallan soil; and now he had a lot of new things to worry about and try to sort out in his mind. Evidently Barzha and Hebakh had been imprisoned without the knowledge of the other Stormwings, and Jokhun had won his crown through treachery; this had apparently angered Rikash enough to have given Ozorne a two-edged sword, bait for a brilliant trap that might never be needed. The Stormwing knew something, that much was obvious, but what?

There were warnings everywhere. Lindhall had told him of the signs he had seen and heard of; Rikash had told him and Daine bluntly to get out of Carthak; he suspected that when he eventually got the chance to talk to his friend she would tell him that the badger god had said much the same. And somewhere in the tangle was a common thread, the last piece of the puzzle. It was all tied together; all of them being here at the same time, at _this _time. Even what the Banjiku had said about Daine; his instincts told him that was a part of it as well. His mind raced; he almost had it...

It didn't seem important any more. His head was aching more than ever, his lip throbbed where he'd bitten it earlier, he was tired and stressed and it seemed easier to stop thinking and give in. Varice had found him again, and her chatter washed over him peacefully, stilling his racing thoughts; it still irritated him a little, but that seemed very distant now and it was easy to ignore it. He felt drunk again, but like last night he hadn't touched anything but water all day.

After the way he had felt this morning, he had planned to gently refuse should Varice suggest a repeat performance, but it was hard to remember why now. Would it be so bad to lose himself and just forget for a while? Varice was more than willing, and a very small part of him had missed her – or at least his memories of her; best not to think about that too hard – and if he felt bad in the morning, so what? He felt bad now. It wouldn't make any difference in the long run. Part of him was aware that this wasn't such a brilliant argument after all, and that this was a very bad idea, but he no longer cared.

* * *

Varice woke him the next morning shortly before dawn when she left to return to her own rooms. As the door closed behind her, he rolled over and groaned, aware that now morning had come he did indeed feel as bad as he had thought he would. What was wrong with him? It was being here, that had to be it, but he hadn't realised it was going to mess him up this badly. He felt sick again, but he hadn't eaten enough in the past few days to vomit.

This had to stop, he told himself, vague memories of last night making him flush with shame. Whatever he had once thought he felt, he didn't love Varice and occasionally wasn't sure he even liked her very much. It wasn't anything to do with her; he simply wasn't who he had been all those years ago. Arram Draper might have loved her, but Numair Salmalín could not.

Rolling over again, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep now, he stared at the ceiling. He didn't like the person he was becoming here; he'd thought he was a better man than this. He was avoiding his friends, he wasn't paying attention to the real reason they were here, his attitude towards Varice was shameful even for him... Angry with himself, he sat up and tried to meditate – as he should have done in the first place, instead of acting like a total idiot trying to find ways to calm his mind.

The meditation was more difficult for him this morning than it had been at any point in his life. Hours later, he had achieved only a thin veneer of surface calm and his body was still wracked with tension; indeed, he was so tense that when someone hammered on his door he startled so badly he almost fell off the bed.

His visitor was Alanna; she gave him a disgusted look that made him blush at the unpleasant realisation that everyone was likely to know who he had spent the night with, but instead of the expected lecture the Lioness looked worried. "Do you know where Daine is?" she asked tersely. "She's not in her rooms and Kitten doesn't know where she went."

What little calm he had gained shattered instantly. "_What?_"

* * *

In a way he supposed it was almost inevitable that this latest crisis should be the one to lead him into direct conflict with Ozorne. Before, Numair would have said that he would rather have all his fingernails pulled out than face the emperor again – ironic, that, when you stopped to think about it – but where Daine was concerned his judgement had always been skewed. Something about her had unearthed a protective streak he hadn't realised he had. Now he paced restlessly alongside the man who had once been his best friend, trying to keep the anger out of his voice and failing.

"We have checked the baths, and the gardens, and she is nowhere to be found," he snapped as they entered the aviary, continuing the earlier – well, conversation wasn't the right word. "If she is here, and you are concealing her from me – "

"Be assured, Draper, she is _not _here," Ozorne cut him off coldly, just as angry. "We had hoped she would be, to see how our birds have improved."

As long as he was here, he might as well bring up what really bothered him. "If they have, then you have no further need of her. We _all _prefer that you leave her in peace."

"_We _are inclined to give her grace and favour," the emperor drawled, at his most coldly imperial; his eyes burned with hate. "She has served us well, and we wish to reward her."

A muscle jumped in Numair's jaw; the world went black, then white, and for a moment he couldn't see. A strong scent reached him, blood, stale sweat, filth and burned meat; that cold voice drawled in his ear, _"Finally found your backbone, didn't you, Arram? Here's your reward." _Then pain flared through him, or the memory of pain, and he could hear himself screaming. It took every scrap of strength he possessed not to sway where he stood as he pushed the flashback away – usually they didn't come when other people were around, but it was hardly surprising that Ozorne would trigger one. "She requires no rewards for your providing, _Your Imperial Majesty,_" he spat, trying very hard not to shake. "She is well enough as she is."

"Such heat over a girl child, and one without family or connection to recommend her," Ozorne replied dismissively. "Why concern yourself in her affairs? You will forget she exists the moment some rare tome of magic comes into your hands, or some arcane toy," he added mockingly, before his voice grew ugly. "That has always been your way. You take up with someone, make them feel you are their sworn friend, then turn on them the moment you have what you wanted from them."

A faint chill of warning slid down Numair's spine; the emperor was completely and utterly insane. But his temper, usually long buried, had been roused at last, fed by worry and by hate; he glared at Ozorne. "How like you to see it in those terms," he retorted scathingly. "She is my _student. _You will never understand that. You never could sustain so profound a tie. Once you gained your throne, you decided you no longer required mere _human _bonds." He was too angry to see Ozorne's expression change.

"Human bonds," the emperor repeated softly, looking down to study his fingernails idly. "I am certain you and your lovely _student _have a most profound bond. Must you share a bed with her animals as well as with her?"

Rage all but blinded him, and he didn't realise he had moved until fire burned his fingers and he registered that he had just attempted to hit Ozorne full in the face. Rubbing his stinging hand, shaking with fury, he stared at Ozorne flatly, knowing that if he didn't leave now he wouldn't stop until he'd killed the emperor with his bare hands. He had never been so angry. "If you interfere with her, if you harm her in any way, it will be a breach of the peace accords," he said coldly, his voice tight with suppressed emotions, so stressed that a faint accent coloured his words for the first time in many years. "All of the Eastern Lands will unite to destroy you." Turning, he stalked out, every muscle tense with a killing rage he had never felt before.

* * *

How he made it back to his rooms, Numair had no idea. He wasn't aware of walking back through the empty corridors and had no memory of reaching his room; only when the door closed behind him and the fire of his Gift flared in a barrier around the rooms did awareness creep back and he all but screamed in sheer fury, taking out his frustration on one of the chairs in the corner and smashing it to kindling.

The violence of the reaction was completely unlike him, and helped to clear his mind. His rage spent for now, he took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it go; then he turned cold as sanity returned and he realised what he had just done. There was no curse in any language he knew that was strong enough. He didn't care about the risk to himself; Ozorne had always intended to find a reason to have him killed, he'd known that from the start. But he had just put Daine in danger, and for that there was no forgiveness. Now Ozorne knew how important she was to him, although he didn't know the reason why.

He began to pace back and forth, shaking, the last of his anger giving way to fear and self loathing as he wondered frantically what to do now. Ozorne could legally arrest him now, this morning; he had attacked the emperor. But no; that wasn't his style. The Emperor Mage would do nothing today; he had always liked drawing out the pain, as Numair recalled only too well. There would be a plan forming already; it was going to take a miracle to get out of this.

Eventually he forced himself to calm down; he wasn't going to be any help to Daine if he was this tightly wound, and that was what mattered now. There was no way to undo his actions, so all that was left to him now was to try and pick up the pieces. His first course of action was to keep his mouth shut; he did not want to think about the others' reactions if they learned what had happened. Daine would show up; before he had lost his temper, he had been able to see that Ozorne was telling the truth when he said he didn't know where she was. Numair would wait and see what happened today and try to be ready to act when something went wrong, as it inevitably must.

He wanted nothing more than to run. It wouldn't be hard. Leave a message with Lindhall, shapeshift; he could be half way across the Great Inland Sea by noon. It was so tempting that he stood by the window and stared longingly up into the blue sky for a long time, wishing that it was possible. But to do so, even if he managed to escape, would leave his friends exposed to Ozorne's wrath. He was the preferred target; while he was here, the emperor wouldn't want anyone else. To protect them, he would have to stay, although he had no idea how he was going to get out of this.

Clearing away the remains of the shattered chair, he realised soberly that the only reason he was still alive was that he had tried to hit Ozorne instead of using his Gift. A duel between himself and the Emperor Mage would have torn the palace apart, and every other mage in the city would have attacked Numair without hesitation; he would not have survived. Even if their magic didn't kill him, it would have drained him and he would have been executed without delay. But he had insulted Ozorne by trying to hit him, and that required more thought to devise a suitable punishment.

And why had he reacted like that? For years rumour had had him and Daine sharing a bed. The first time he'd heard the gossip he'd laughed aloud at the sheer absurdity of it; he'd never felt anything beyond a kind of annoyed, contemptuous amusement at the thought. But hearing Ozorne's voice accusing him had all but wiped out his sanity. Returning to his pacing, he considered it, trying to think clearly with his head buzzing. His friendship with Daine was probably the most important part of his life now, he eventually decided, and hearing the man he hated above all else insinuating anything about the two of them had somehow perverted it. More than that, to hear that piece of filth insult Daine had been more than he could stand. And the intensity of the flashback had left him badly shaken. Even so, that was no excuse for reacting the way he had.

Without question, this had been the stupidest thing he had ever done in a life filled with reckless decisions and foolish actions. Bitterly, he remembered Daine telling him in Dunlath that she had never seen him act without thinking, and almost laughed; thank the gods that she didn't know him as well as she thought. He didn't really care very much about what happened to him any more, he'd either survive or he wouldn't and there was very little Ozorne could do to him that he hadn't already experienced, but if she was hurt because of him then he would never forgive himself.

* * *

Daine eventually showed up during breakfast; Numair didn't hear what excuse she gave, too busy picking at his food and worrying himself sick. Finally he concluded that now more than ever he needed to find out what was happening in Carthak; if he was to keep the two of them alive through this, he would need all the information he could get. Pushing away his untouched meal, he looked up, relieved when his voice sounded more or less normal. "Daine, you asked to speak to me alone. Let's go to my room."

"Then I go, too," Alanna interjected firmly.

Daine looked awkward. "It isn't needful – it's just a magic thing."

"If you visit a man's room, you need a chaperone," Alanna informed her, shaking her head at him. "Really, Numair, you know Carthakis. They think an unveiled woman is no better than she ought to be. Until we leave here, you can't talk with her unless she is chaperoned or you can manage it in public."

He went scarlet, a hot flush of shame burning through him as he recalled Ozorne's insinuations again; Alanna was right, damn her. "A fine thing, when I can't talk to my student alone," he muttered, embarrassed. "Let's go, then."

His embarrassment only increased when they entered his rooms and he heard Daine mutter irritably, "Did _Varice _have a chaperone?" Numair felt himself blush again, his self loathing increasing, and was grateful that he missed whatever Alanna said in reply. Taking a moment to speak the ward-spell and fill the room with black fire, shielding them from spies, he regained shaky control of himself and schooled his expression once more.

"It's safe now," he said shortly, forced to sit on the bed next to Alanna since he had destroyed one of the chairs in his fit of temper earlier; now he was paying attention, he could smell Varice's perfume, which was doing absolutely nothing to help his mood. "Talk."

Her news was every bit as dark and useless as he had feared. _Why can't someone just tell us what's happening? _He was getting very tired of hints and vague prophecies of doom. "It's hardly new," he said finally, trying to ignore the renewed headache that was drilling into his temples. "Seers throughout the Eastern and Southern Lands have been giving warnings of some disaster that looms over Carthak. Without better information, we have no reason to break off the talks and return home." Not that he would be allowed to. "Have you such information?" he asked distantly, and was gloomily unsurprised when she shook her head; _of course not_. "Next time, tell the badger he must be more specific, if the warning is to be of any use."

"What about that breath thing the badger did?" Alanna inquired, adding to his irritation with himself; he should have asked that question himself. He needed to pay attention; it was more important than ever now. "Do you know what it is?"

"Oh, I know," Daine answered, sounding grim suddenly; her change of tone worried him. "And I don't like it – not one bit." Standing, she looked around and stalked over to the stuffed vulture in the corner; he noticed to his dismay that Varice's handkerchief was draped over its face. He didn't remember that. Fighting off another blush, he avoided both his friends' eyes and watched uneasily as Daine stood in front of the dead bird. "_Here's _what the badger did." She touched the vulture with both hands; white light flared, and a sense of alien magic screamed along Numair's senses; then the bird moved.

* * *

"The timing is inconvenient," he remarked sarcastically some time later, when Daine had explained what she knew of this new magic – which unsurprisingly wasn't much. He fiddled with the black opal that hung around his neck, playing with it nervously as he paced back and forth in the small room, trying not to look at the dead vulture. This was _creepy. _"We can't investigate properly while we are here. I will say this much – what you have done sounds like no wild magic I have ever heard. Only the gods can bring the dead back to even a semblance of life."

"I'm no god," Daine protested; apparently this was going to become a recurring theme. His mind began to wander off at a tangent; would her being the daughter of a god explain this? If so, it should have shown up before now, surely... "What if the badger passed some of his godness on to me?" she asked, drawing him back to the present. _Godhead,_ he corrected automatically, but didn't say it aloud; there were more important problems than grammar right now.

Numair shook his head. "There is nothing in the writings about animal gods to indicate they are able to do such a transfer," he replied distantly, thinking hard. "Not only that, but normally their power affects only those of their own species. The badger's magic should apply to badgers alone, as the wolf god applies only to wolves, and so on." Daine had told him the names of the wolf gods once, but he couldn't remember right now. Idly he wondered what the badger god's name was; it seemed strange that they didn't know.

"Only the Great Gods have power that translates across species," he continued. Surely if Daine was related to one of _them_ they would have learned of it by now. No, something else was going on here. "Mithros, the Goddess, the Black God, the Graveyard Hag, the Master of Dream Gainel – "

"Don't name them all," Alanna said warningly, and despite everything that had happened he smiled a little at the exasperation in his friend's voice.

"No – of course not. In the meantime, Daine, I think it would be best if you said nothing of this and, in particular, _did _nothing with it until we get home."

"I'll _try_. It keeps getting away from me, though." He nodded wearily, unsurprised, wondering dryly what it was like to have a normal and unexciting life. Maybe someday he would find out.

"What about him?" Alanna asked now, pointing to the dead bird still hopping around the room. It was a valid point. What on earth were they going to do with the thing? The three humans stared at the vulture. "People will ask questions," the Lioness continued dryly. "I assume you want this kept quiet."

"As quiet as possible," he agreed fervently. "You don't know Ozorne. If he found out she could do this..." Bile burned the back of his throat as his stomach knotted. That would be a nightmare beyond all imagining. And Ozorne had always been interested in necromancy, he recalled queasily before ruthlessly slamming the door on those particular memories. "You don't ever want him to find out," he finished lamely, before changing the subject and digging out his cat's-eye for Daine so she could carry the vulture away without being seen.

Hidden by the invisibility spell he'd placed on the stone, her voice reached him from empty air. "Numair – you shouldn't have tried to hit him. I don't think he liked it." The door closed behind her and he stared at it numbly. _Oh, gods, she saw that? _Searching his admittedly extensive vocabulary, he eventually formed a few choice obscenities that nicely expressed his feelings. Turning around, he saw Alanna and jumped; he'd forgotten she was still here. Her eyes were puzzled, but with a hard edge that suggested that anger was definitely an option.

"What's Daine talking about? Who did you try to hit?"

He didn't consider telling her the truth for so much as a second. "I've no idea," he replied, keeping his face smooth and his eyes puzzled. He was lying, and she knew he was lying, but when it became clear he had no intention of saying anything else she scowled and left. Once he was nicely alone once more, he sank down onto the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands for a moment, wondering dully how this mess could possibly get any worse.

* * *

_Good grief, a lot happens in a short space of time in this chapter! Poor Numair doesn't know whether he's coming or going. He doesn't know what Rikash did with the feather, not specifically; he can see there's magic in the feather, and he thought he understood Rikash's riddle, but he has no idea if it's possible or not. And he has other things on his mind at the moment anyway._

_There's Varice again. Numair really isn't acting very much like himself, is he? There are reasons. Wait and see. And oh dear, maybe he shouldn't have spoken to Ozorne... That didn't end well. I inflicted a flashback on him because I think he needed an extra push before losing control so completely; I know how worried he was about Daine and how much he hates Ozorne, but I think there must have been something else as well. And now Daine can raise the dead. Life's getting complicated again! He's pretty much shell-shocked at this point; he simply can't feel any more off balance, and his list of things to think about later is about eight feet long now._

_The essay/FAQ idea has been received pretty positively by most of you, but I'm still not sure about making it a separate story. However, L.A.H.H. came up with the wonderful idea of a forum: it's going to take work and I don't know when I'll have the time, but I really like the idea. A forum devoted to picking Numair's character and history apart into lots of tiny pieces and filtering it through our own crazed minds; doesn't that sound like fun? Nothing definite yet, but I'm seriously considering it. A discussion would be more fun than just my mindless rambling, after all._

_Next chapter: I'm sure he would quite like to sit and think things through for a while now, but unfortunately for him the next lot of negotiations is about to start, so he won't get more than a few minutes to himself. He does work out one reason why he's been acting so oddly; the knowledge doesn't do him much good, since he then promptly makes an absolute idiot of himself. Again. Anyway, as always, your reviews please._

_**Loten.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_This chapter is quite a bit longer than usual, because I wanted to get to a particular point before stopping – you'll see why. A few people have wondered what's been happening to Numair; none of you were imagining it, as you'll soon see, but nobody quite guessed. Several of you came pretty close, though, so you should be proud. I'm pleased nobody worked it out; I wanted it to be so subtle nobody would guess until we reached this point. I'm sneaky like that, you see. An explanation follows. Enjoy!

* * *

_

Numair found out how much worse things could get shortly afterwards; when he joined the others for the next day of negotiations, Alanna gave him a look that should have stopped his heart on the spot or set him on fire. Obviously Daine had told her. Numair was grateful that nobody else seemed to know what had happened; he really did not want the rest of the Tortallan delegation to learn that he had neatly ruined any chance of a successful treaty. _Not your proudest moment_, he told himself dully. A small voice somewhere deep inside whispered _Jon's going to be furious;_ he tried not to listen to it. He was feeling guilty enough already without starting to wonder whether or not he'd just started a war.

Wisely, he made sure there were several other people sitting between himself and Alanna when they took their seats. The negotiations weren't so boring that he'd welcome several hours of her kicking him repeatedly – if she didn't decide on anything worse. Still, the look she was giving him paled in comparison to the sheer hatred on Ozorne's face when the emperor entered; if Alanna's glare wanted to stop his heart, the Emperor Mage's expression damned his soul to an eternity of torment. Numair stared meekly at the surface of the table and tried very hard to pretend he wasn't there.

Besides, he certainly had plenty to think about. Ignoring the speeches and debates rising around him, he turned his mind to the more pressing problem of his student being able to resurrect the dead. He'd dismissed Daine's question about the badger earlier, but maybe it wasn't as unlikely as it had seemed; the animal god had obviously done _something._ This new ability was no part of Daine's magic and he doubted it had anything to do with her parentage either; it had developed here and now for a reason.

This time he recognised the feeling of weary indifference creeping over him; someone didn't want him to work it out. That confirmed that there was a god or goddess involved; nobody else had enough power to affect his thoughts. Progress. And now he knew he was being manipulated, maybe he could stop himself doing anything else monumentally stupid. _Better late than never, I suppose. _Which god, though? He wished he had access to the library here, but that had been forbidden to not only him but all the mages and scholars present.

Raised voices tugged him back to the real world, and he let it happen; now he knew what was going on, he could think about it some more later. A heated argument had broken out over fishing rights, of all things, although the subject hadn't mattered in the slightest; Ozorne had been spoiling for a fight since that morning. The emperor chose that moment to interrupt with his proposal of an arranged marriage between Kaddar and Princess Kalasin; chaos erupted. When several people were on their feet and shouting at one another, the emperor abruptly rose and left without ceremony, followed by most of his people, and the meeting stumbled to a halt. Numair tried to ignore Alanna's glare; he could all but hear her telling him that this was his fault.

She cornered him a few minutes later as the various delegations returned to their quarters to stretch their legs and calm down. "Numair, we need to talk," she told him, her voice low and hard; he knew that tone, it had made entire armies quail before now, but the Lioness was the least of his problems.

"No, we don't," he answered quietly, not looking at her. "I am well aware of what I've done. I know I've been incredibly stupid, and I know I've endangered not only myself but certainly Daine and probably the rest of us as well. I know that better than you do, I assure you. What else is there to say?"

The silence between them after he'd finished speaking grew more intense. Finally Alanna drew in a breath to speak, but whatever she might have said was lost in a sudden crash of thunder nearby that made everyone jump and several people swear. _What now? _Numair asked himself tiredly; the same question showed in his friend's purple eyes as they looked at one another. "We'll continue this later," she promised grimly; _Oh, good. _The pair headed for the door and were met by the returning Tusaine delegation, all babbling about lightning striking the two statues of Ozorne by the stairs.

_Subtle, _Numair thought dryly. Whichever god was involved clearly had a flair for the dramatic. Or maybe they'd realised that the previous omens were not getting through Ozorne's thick skull. The statues had been ugly anyway, he mused philosophically, way past being afraid of anything else now and feeling only mild interest at best. The sooner they were away from here, the better.

* * *

He spent the rest of the afternoon in his rooms with a visiting Lindhall, unashamedly hiding from his friends. He didn't particularly want to face Daine or Alanna right now; besides, there were still plans to be made. The simulacrum he had shipped to his former teacher was almost finished but still needed a little work; Lindhall was full of questions about it, and from there the conversation wandered into catching up on what each man had been up to in the last eight years.

Neither of them spoke directly of Lindhall's involvement with the slaves. Best to talk of that as little as possible; as with everything else from this godforsaken empire, it was dangerous. "Tomorrow," Lindhall promised quietly. "When Kaddar is here. He has information for your king as well."

"Does he know I'm helping you?"

"Not yet. Can you get a message to him tonight?"

"Probably; what is it?"

"Not in writing," Lindhall cautioned him, and he almost laughed, giving his teacher a look of affectionate reproach; as if he was stupid enough to put anything down in writing. Palming a note would be a lot easier than working a signal into a conversation, but not worth the risk. "Oh – of course. Sorry. I suppose you're more practised at this sort of intrigue than I."

"Lindhall, the message?" he asked patiently.

"Oh. Yes. Be careful to make it part of an innocent conversation. There are a lot of spies capable of reading lips now."

* * *

Once again, Varice had made sure he wasn't sat with any of his friends; just as well. Alanna was still furious with him, and he didn't particularly want to find out how Daine felt about his little performance earlier. She always got annoyed when he acted overprotective; so she was surely going to hate him after this. Numair had thought about what conversation he could safely have with the prince without rousing suspicion that would incorporate everything Lindhall had told him, and had unhappily concluded that there was only one realistic option. He'd already shown Ozorne how protective he was of his student; best to continue in the same vein rather than risk revealing anything else. Besides... maybe Kaddar needed the warning. But even so, this was not going to be pleasant. Excusing himself from Varice, he took a deep breath and walked over to where Daine and Kaddar were sitting.

"May I join you?" He sat down, avoiding looking at Daine; she was really going to be angry with him for this. "We haven't really had a chance to chat," he told a puzzled-looking Kaddar. "I understand you're studying with my friend Lindhall Reed." The prince's face stayed impassive, but there was the smallest flicker in his eyes as he nodded. "What course of studies, may I ask?"

"The relation of men, animals and plants to one another, with a matching course in law. Next spring, if things permit, I hope to go south with Master Lindhall and a group from the university to look into the causes of the drought. We're hoping – well, the masters are; I'll just be there to carry things – we hope to find some way to end it. Five years is a long time."

"I see. Commendable," he replied politely, nodding very slightly; this boy was clever. Message received and understood; now came the difficult part. He steeled himself. "With regard to your position as his heir, has your uncle arranged a marriage for you?" He ignored Daine's sudden glare; this would have been so much easier if she wasn't present, but too bad. It had to be done.

"He is negotiating with the king of Galla for the hand of one of his daughters. There is also a princess in the Copper Isles who my uncle feels is a possibility."

"I see. But you are involved with girls, are you not? Students at the university, young noblewomen. Are they aware you are not permitted to marry to please yourself?" He almost winced as Daine's foot caught his shin and tried to shift out of range without seeming to move. Kaddar stiffened, looking annoyed for a moment.

"No gentleman deceives a woman in that manner, sir."

"Indeed not," he replied mildly, trying to soften the insult. "Stop kicking me, Daine," he added without looking at her; his leg was aching. He lowered his voice a little. "You understand, she is very important to a number of powerful nobles and mages in Tortall," he continued, dropping any pretence that this was an abstract discussion; despite knowing he had engineered this conversation purely to deliver Lindhall's message, he couldn't help but be sincere in his warning. "Their majesties. Lady Alanna and her husband, the baron of Pirate's Swoop. Me," he added almost as an afterthought. "All of us would take it amiss if we thought for one moment she was being trifled with, particularly by a young man who wasn't free to do the right thing by her."

Oh, Daine was going to hate him for weeks, a fact made clear by the tone of her voice as she all but growled at him. "Numair, can I speak to you _privately _for a moment?"

"No," he answered flatly, still not looking at her, by now starting to feel more than a little stupid; _nothing new there, then. _"Stepping on my foot won't work either," he added, trying once more to shift his leg out of range. "Do I make myself clear, Prince Kaddar?" he asked mildly.

Kaddar didn't look much happier than Daine with this conversation; anger glittered in the younger man's eyes even as he replied, "I understand you well, Master Salmalín." Nonetheless, there was a thoughtful look mingled with the anger; the sincerity of the warning hadn't obscured the message.

"Good." He stood up slowly, and with the best will in the world couldn't stop himself looming briefly over the table; now he really was being stupid, and sadly couldn't blame it on any gods that might be lurking. This particular folly was all his own. "Lindhall tells me you also have an excellent memory. I hope so," he said slowly, seeing the acknowledgement of the comment flicker through Kaddar's eyes; the prince understood, at least. He wished Daine did; she landed a final kick as he turned and left, and it took everything he had not to limp as he returned to his own seat. She had to have partially shifted; there was no way she should be able to kick that hard wearing velvet slippers. Still, bruises were the least he deserved after that.

* * *

He didn't have much time to brood over this latest development, fortunately; he was losing the will to stay sober now. Ozorne had decided to show his power tonight, it seemed. Numair won a place at the rail where he could see what was going on – one good thing about being six feet five inches tall; people got out of your way – and watched with a kind of fascinated disgust as the four strongest mages of the university began to raise the ship into the air; it was a senseless waste of magic, and he agreed darkly with Kitten as the young dragon shrieked before Daine silenced her.

After the ship had been lifted more than twenty feet, Numair saw signs of strain in the faces of the mages and cautiously reached for his own Gift, just to be on the safe side. If one of them lost concentration now... Twenty feet was quite a long fall in the best of circumstances. Into cold water, in the dark, with splintered wooden wreckage everywhere... It didn't bear thinking about. He stood silently looking down at the war barges, recalling their attacks on Pirate's Swoop, remembering the scream of a dying dragon, and wondered darkly if there was any way he could save the ship while somehow managing to fling Ozorne off into oblivion.

Forty feet... sixty... They were almost eighty feet up when the ship stopped rising. Heights didn't bother Numair much usually, but this was ridiculous. If one of the mages faltered now he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop the fall by himself; he glanced around and found Alanna standing beside him, ready to help if necessary, and nodded slightly.

The gathering watched in silence as the full fleet was revealed, every barge lit by the familiar glow of liquid fire. Again Numair heard the death cry of the dragon Flamewing and tried to stop himself shivering; it was a bad way to die. Watching the magic sparkling from barge to barge, he wondered whether this was intended as a threat or merely a warning; his musing was broken by Kaddar's faint whisper nearby.

"Is he _mad_?" Well, yes, actually, Numair was tempted to say in reply; he held his tongue as the prince continued in soft disbelief. "This isn't just the northern fleet – he's brought up the western one as well! Did he do it to – to _brag _– "

"Shut up." The voice that cut him off was Varice, surprisingly. "What's the matter with you? Do you want to disappear like his _last _heir?" Maybe she wasn't as ignorant of the political reality of Carthak as Numair had thought. He should really give her more credit. And she was showing loyalty to Kaddar as well as to his uncle.

"But – "

Kaddar's protest was effectively silenced by Daine's elbow; Numair's shin throbbed in sympathy. His student wasn't gentle about showing her opposition to something being said. "She's right – shut up!" The soft command was echoed by Kitten, who pointedly took the prince's leg in her teeth. "If I tell her, she'll bite," Daine told the imperial heir coolly. "And you haven't been bit 'til a dragon does it." That was certainly true, Numair reflected. The entire conversation had been in an almost sub-vocal whisper; he doubted anyone else had heard but for himself and possibly Alanna on his other side.

Slowly the ship began to descend back towards the river; just in time, since to his eyes the four mages controlling it were starting to look a little shaky. He didn't let himself relax until they were back in the Zekoi; beside him, Alanna shivered. "Never thought I'd be grateful to be on the water," she whispered, making him smile in rueful agreement; his reply was cut off when four more mages stepped forward for their part in this exercise in gross theatricality.

Whatever they had planned never happened, however. Even as their Gifts began to shimmer around them, a distant ringing sound echoed across the water, repeated in a steady rhythm. Heads turned all across the ship, looking for the source; Ozorne was scowling. Evidently this was spoiling his fun. _What a shame. _Numair blinked as the cause of the sound came into view. A walking statue? Well, that was certainly interesting, if that was the right word.

"Goddess bless," Kaddar whispered numbly; a ripple of movement spread across the deck as people formed the Sign against evil. The golden statue of the horse and rider moved closer along the harbour breakwater, illuminated by its own light; he concentrated briefly and saw a faint shimmer of what he assumed was divine magic as the source. It certainly wasn't the Gift, or wild magic. It sparkled oddly, and made his eyes water.

"No," Daine whispered nearby, distracting him. "That's not a two-legger." Kaddar and Varice stared at her. "Zek was asking," she explained, still looking at the statue.

"It's a statue," Varice said quietly. "Of – of Zernou, the first emperor. It stands in Market Square, in Carthak City, before the Temple of Mithros."

"I don't think it's standing there any more," Alanna commented dryly, and Numair bit back a snort of laughter.

The statue halted and the horse reared, the rider crying out in Old Thak as he pointed his sword at the imperial ship before the statue turned and ran off across the open sea. Numair didn't need Kaddar to translate the thing's words: _"Woe. Woe. Woe to the empire – we are forsaken. The gods are angry_!"

* * *

The evening had dissolved into chaos after that. Nobody seemed to know what to make of this, and certainly the statue had been more difficult to ignore than previous omens. The emperor had not said a word, departing for his own quarters as soon as possible; Numair had happily joined in with the other Tortallans in their accommodation as they debated what this might mean, since doing so kept him away from Varice – definitely time to put a stop to that.

When they finally separated and went to their own rooms, he warded his door, not wanting to be disturbed by anyone tonight. There was a lot to think about. Both today's dramatic omens had involved statues; did that mean something? Was the fact that Zernou's statue came from outside Mithros' temple significant? Possibly not; from what little he knew of Mithros, he wasn't one of the more subtle gods and would have shown stronger signs of displeasure by now. Had it been a deliberate attempt at misdirection then, or had the statue simply been convenient and dramatic?

Too many questions with no answers. He didn't attempt to stop the slow clouding of his thoughts that followed the speculation, merely reinforced the wards around his rooms to discourage visitors and went to sleep – alone – waking in the morning feeling much better for it.

Much as he would have liked to continue trying to puzzle out what was happening to Carthak, there was actually work to do this morning. They had been granted access to the spells that opened gates in the barrier between the mortal and divine realms, but were forbidden to copy them or remove them; that meant that himself and Harailt had the job of memorising what they could. That would have to wait until later, though; this morning he had to meet with Lindhall and Kaddar and talk treason.

_I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I _had_ a nice quiet life, _he reflected sardonically as he worked briskly to ensure that nobody realised he wasn't where he was supposed to be. This simulacrum was nothing compared to the one in Lindhall's rooms, the one his life might depend on; it didn't need to be. It was by now fairly simple to create a copy of himself, and this one didn't need to be all that accurate since sparkling black fire partially obscured the view through the half-open doorway; the spells attached to it were more important. If anyone tried to come in, the rooms would seal themselves; he hoped that wouldn't happen, since it would make getting back in more difficult. Once that was done, he shape-shifted and left through the open window, which was similarly half-shrouded by his Gift.

It had been a long time since Numair had taken hawk shape, and he spent a few minutes simply circling amongst the rooftops of the palace reminding himself how much fun flying could be. Not the best use of his time, perhaps, but after all he was the only mage here strong enough to shape-shift; it felt good to remember that and his confidence in his ability to survive what was coming increased.

Finally, reluctantly, he flew out of the warm thermal he had found and glided across the river to the university and Lindhall's rooms. Surprisingly, his former teacher had actually remembered to leave a window open as requested. It felt strange to be back here; the last time he'd set foot in these rooms he'd been twenty years old. That seemed a depressingly long time ago. _I'm getting old, _he told himself dryly as he resumed his own form and prudently chose to turn himself invisible; no knowing who might show up.

He hadn't counted on Kitten, though. It had been odd to stand here in this corridor and watch Daine and the dragonet exploring Lindhall's rooms, listening to his friends talking; it had distracted him and by the time he'd noticed the young immortal's approach it was too late. Her whistles cut the air, painfully loud, more indignant than angry; she could no doubt smell him and was obviously wondering why he was hiding. Recognising him would not stop her from biting him, though, and he let the spell drop; he had no wish to gain another scar.

"You _had _to inform everyone," he scolded in exasperation, scowling down at her. Kitten ignored the rebuke, as always, nibbling at his breeches; he sighed and reached down to scratch the top of her head gently before cautiously glancing at Daine, remembering all too well how much his friend disliked surprises.

"But – I saw you, in your room," she said slowly, her expression difficult to read.

"It was a simulacrum. I'm expressly forbidden to leave the palace."

"What if one of their mages came around, looking for you? What if the emperor spies on you?"

"I embodied it with sufficient amounts of my Gift to deceive anybody. Should someone try to disturb the copy, it will enclose the room completely, so no one will enter until I am back inside."

"And if you're caught?" she demanded, now sounding more annoyed than surprised. "He'd love to catch you breaking the rules!" Her concern was a good sign, he decided; possibly she'd forgiven him for embarrassing her at dinner yesterday. He hoped so; the bruises on his shin were a lovely shade of purple this morning.

Kaddar came to his rescue. "Daine, we had to talk. There's no other way we can do it without being spied on."

Daine turned slowly to glare at the prince and Lindhall. "You knew he'd be here this morning. That's why you brought me."

"I also wanted you to see _my _friends. You are more than welcome here in your own right, my dear." Numair smiled a little at that; Lindhall always knew the right thing to say, something he had failed to pass on to his former student. Instead, Numair had shown a talent for knowing the _wrong _thing to say more often than not.

Lindhall's words won a smile from Daine, albeit a somewhat reluctant one, before she gave Numair an injured look. "You _could _have trusted me."

He recognised the pain in her eyes and reached to take her hands; he hadn't meant to hurt her. _You never do. _"I _do _trust you, magelet," he told her softly. "I simply didn't wish to discuss it under Ozorne's roof. You aren't particularly adept at concealing your state of mind. You would have been visibly apprehensive if I had left with you and His Highness, whether I was invisible or not."

He watched her scowling, turning his words over in her mind and trying to decide whether or not to continue being angry with him, and was finally rewarded with the irritated look she sometimes wore when he was right about something that annoyed her. "How _did _you get here?"

"Hawk shape," he replied mildly, letting go of her hands, recognising her grudging surrender in the change of topic. "And now, we've little time and much to discuss," he added apologetically. "Would you mind looking at the aviary for a while? Or would you rather be privy to our discussions?"

That had been a gamble – he had no wish to endanger her any further with knowledge of what they were about to discuss – but he knew her well and was rewarded when she said hastily, "I'll go look at birds. I'm that tired of secrets. Kit? Stay or go?" The dragon shook her head and sat next to Numair; he picked her up as Daine left.

The extent of what Lindhall and Kaddar had achieved was impressive. Most of the information the pair passed to Numair meant nothing to him, names of people and places that he didn't know, but that didn't matter. He didn't have to understand it, only remember it and pass it on to Jonathan when they returned home. It was a relief to be able to talk openly for once, without constantly having to guard what they said, and the three men were deep in conversation when Kitten stirred in his lap and whistled soft warning; reaching to touch the dragon, Numair heard the sound of crumbling rock from one of the other rooms and winced. This couldn't be good.

* * *

His headache was back in full force now as the four humans examined the incomplete skeleton now flying around the room. Vague hopes that Lindhall and Kaddar would be distracted simply by trying to work out what the creature was – or had been, technically, he supposed – were dashed when the prince turned his attention to Daine once more. "This isn't the assemblage spell. I've never seen anything like this in my life. What did you do to it?"

_That is an excellent question. Such a shame none of us know the answer. _Numair rubbed his temple, trying to ease the ache drilling behind his eye as Daine looked at him somewhat desperately for help. "I think you must explain," he told her softly; this was a secret that was rapidly spiralling out of control and would bring the total who knew about it to five. Perhaps they could prevent it going any further, but he doubted it. It hadn't been Daine's fault; there was no way she could have known that touching isolated bones buried in rock would be the same as an entire stuffed animal.

Her voice tugged him back into the real world. "Numair, what should I say?"

"All that you told me yesterday," he replied quietly. He trusted Lindhall, and Lindhall trusted Kaddar. Besides, what could they leave out? This was a bizarre story as it was. He paced back and forth as she did her best to explain what had happened, listening with half an ear as the two men began discussing the implications.

"Daine's right to keep this secret," Kaddar said finally. "I hate to think what my uncle would do with someone who has such power. Can you imagine? An army of dead creatures that can't be hurt by normal means?"

Unfortunately, yes, he could imagine it. He really wished he couldn't. "It would be precisely to his taste," he agreed, shivering a little at the thought. "He might decide such power is worth a war in Tortall, perhaps even all the Eastern Lands." _Might _didn't really come into it. Ozorne _would _make that decision. He tasted blood and realised that he'd chewed the scab off his lower lip again.

"There's one thing I find troublesome about all this, however," Lindhall said thoughtfully, and Numair almost laughed; only one thing? His former teacher continued, "Numair is right – wild magic does not function this way, as far as we can determine. What _is _the provenance of this power? Even the Black God is unable to give a semblance of life to the dead."

"Mynoss?" Kaddar suggested, then corrected himself. "No. He judges only."

This was the sort of conversation Numair understood. Maybe they could make some sense of this mess. "In _The Ekallatum Book of Tombs _it's said the Queen of Chaos once raised an army of the dead," he offered.

"But the _Scrolls of Qawe Icemage _refute it," Lindhall replied. "According to him, the Queen of Chaos assembled dead wood and stones to be her army. No, the only god, I believe, who can resurrect that which was once flesh and is now dead is the Graveyard Hag."

"That's right," Kaddar agreed. "Remember? There are legends of bonedancers – the resurrected dead – from the fall of the Ikhiyan dynasty, and the end of the Omanat priest-kings – " The prince fell silent as his brain caught up with his mouth and the three men stared silently at one another before turning to look at Daine, who distracted all three of them by swaying on her feet and almost collapsing.

Numair was closest; he caught her and helped her sit down. "Are you all right?" he asked softly. "Bringing things to life tires you, doesn't it?" Not a sentence he had ever thought he would utter. She nodded shakily as Kaddar brought her a drink.

"We have to be careful talking about the Graveyard Hag," the prince said, trying to make a joke of it. "Yesterday she had a coughing fit in the Hag's temple. It didn't let up until we were outside."

Lindhall frowned. "Should you have visited her temple?"

"We visited them _all._"

"It's my fault," Daine said hoarsely. "I wanted to look at them."

Numair frowned at that; his friend wasn't remotely interested in temples. She avoided his eyes when he looked at her questioningly, and his frown deepened, his mind racing; Lindhall's voice interrupted him.

"Numair, I think you must be getting back – it's almost noon." And he still had a lot to do this morning. Biting back a groan and wondering when he would get the time to think things through, he agreed absently, lost in thought as he shifted into a hawk once more and headed back to his rooms and the gate-spells.

* * *

However bad his headache had been before, it was nothing compared to the spikes of agony drilling through his skull now. There were ways of memorising a lot of information in a very short space of time, but they came with a price. Still, it had worked, he told himself dully as he closed the book and put it down carefully to avoid making any noise; he could almost feel the knowledge of the spells settling into his mind. Surely that was worth the feeling that the inside of his skull had been scraped raw.

A tap at his door almost made him scream as coloured lights exploded behind his eyes. Cradling his head in his hands, he twitched his fingers to break the spell guarding the door, knowing better than to try to move; he'd be sick.

His visitor was Alanna. "Lunch, Numair." Her tone was carefully neutral; clearly, she hadn't forgotten their discussion about his angering Ozorne. "How goes it?" she asked with a little more concern as she looked at him. Whatever her tone, her words thundered through his brain and he almost whimpered.

"It's done," he answered thickly.

"You've memorised the whole thing?" she asked, startled. "Harailt's almost given up. He's got about halfway through and realised he doesn't understand it. He says it will take him weeks."

"He's not me," Numair mumbled by way of reply, wishing she would leave so he could concentrate on keeping his skull intact.

"What's wrong?"

"Migraine."

A moment's pause before the Lioness crossed the room and closed the drapes to block out the sunlight. She'd seen him like this before; it wasn't the first time he'd had to memorise a lot of information very quickly. Padding over to where he sat on the bed, she laid cool fingers gently on his temples, purple fire flickering at her fingertips, and he almost wept with relief as her healing magic began to ease the pain.

"You're a goddess."

"I'm an idiot for putting you out of the misery you richly deserve," she snapped in reply, keeping her voice down, sending purple fire to ward the room against eavesdropping. "What on earth were you thinking, Numair?"

Trapped by her hands on his temples, he closed his eyes. "I would have thought it fairly obvious that I wasn't thinking at all."

"Do you really think this is funny?" Her hands dug in a little harder than was necessary and he winced before answering.

"Of course I don't."

"So?"

"Alanna, let it drop," he said wearily. "It's done. I can't undo it. Yes, it was a trap. Yes, he provoked me deliberately, and I fell for it. Yes, it was stupid and dangerous. Believe me, I know. Even you can't be angrier with me than I am."

"Don't be so sure," she retorted, before sighing. "Daine told me what Ozorne said. It's hardly a new insult, Numair."

"I know that, too," he replied softly.

"Then why did you let it get to you?"

"I honestly don't know." He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "I've always been protective of her, you know that, and I worry about his interest in her. People he takes an interest in have a habit of disappearing." He sighed, his tone rueful. "Plus I really do utterly despise him and would cheerfully kill him myself if I could. That probably didn't help."

Alanna's lips twitched and she almost smiled before her scowl returned. "What exactly happened when you left Carthak before?"

He shook his head, almost breaking her touch on his temples. "No, Alanna," he told her firmly. That was the one thing he had never spoken of, not even to Daine. Frankly, he wasn't certain he could talk about it without breaking down completely. He did his best to avoid those memories. "You know the short version already."

"That you wouldn't join him in some new plan, and he accused you of treason because of it."

"More or less, yes."

The last of the pain drained away and he nearly moaned in relief. Releasing her grip, the Lioness moved to sit next to him; she was still scowling, but more thoughtful than angry now.

"What do you believe Ozorne will do?"

"It's difficult to say for certain, since he is completely and utterly insane, but I imagine he will invent some reason to have me arrested and executed. Probably treason again, something that will prevent Jon or anyone else trying to intervene on my behalf." If anyone would try to intervene, anyway. It had been his own fault, after all.

"And Daine?" she asked gently. He winced.

"I don't know. I'd like to think that she won't be involved, but I'd be fooling myself. He knows now that the best way to hurt me is to hurt her. I'm hoping he won't be that stupid, but it's pretty slim."

"What will _you _do? I know you've got some scheme ready."

He shook his head at her, standing up and stretching stiffly. "Better not to talk about it until we have to. Besides, it's time to leave, isn't it?"

She made a face. "Yes, for the next round of talks – for what good they'll do."

Numair smiled. "That part isn't entirely my fault, you know. I was just the excuse. He never intended these talks to succeed; why else propose a match between Kaddar and Kalasin? He's refusing to give ground on one thing that we will never agree to; stalemate."

"And that's the only reason you're not still lying there whimpering when you move," Alanna told him tartly.

He grinned. "So I'm forgiven?"

"Not even close."

Laughing softly, starting to feel better about things, he followed her out.

* * *

The afternoon was as redundant as they had feared. Ozorne didn't bother showing up; instead the Tortallans and various other ambassadors were dealing with Duke Etiakret and his friends. Numair vaguely recalled the duke from his days at the university as an irritatingly pompous man with an inflated sense of his own importance; with imperial authority behind him, the Carthaki noble was unbearable. In the end the hours passed with both sides emphatically stating what they were _not _prepared to do; there was no mediator to suggest compromises and neither party seemed particularly interested in reaching an agreement.

Despite this, Numair was feeling cautiously optimistic. His headache was completely gone for the first time since leaving Tortall; Alanna had also mended his lip where he'd bitten through it yesterday; and he was getting very close to working out what was going on. Listening to Varice's chatter with half an ear during the evening banquet, automatically passing most of his food to the dogs who had now permanently attached themselves to him each mealtime, he turned things over in his mind once more thoughtfully.

It had to be the Graveyard Hag. As well as being Carthak's patron goddess, she was the only one capable of raising the dead. The very fact that it had taken him so long to work it out was further proof, in a way; only one of the Great Gods could cloud his mind without his realising it. A lesser god could compel him, he wasn't a fool and knew his limits, but he would know it was happening. And he wasn't the only one, either; both Lindhall and Kaddar had been diverted earlier. Daine's reaction in the Hag's temple supported the theory too; she'd obviously worked it out before he had, since otherwise he knew there was no way she would have voluntarily gone on a tour of the temple district. _Not enough animals to be interesting,_ he told himself dryly. Now he knew what was going on, he could think clearly; he wasn't about to try talking about it to anyone else, though, not yet.

So, what did he know? The badger god had transferred some of the Hag's power to Daine. Such a transfer surely could not be permanent; evidently the goddess had something specific in mind. The badger had tried to warn Daine off, indicating that he hadn't wanted this to happen. In all probability she was going to be involved when the goddess chose to express her displeasure with the Emperor Mage. That would be bad. The omens were getting worse; whatever happened was going to be... _How did Rikash put it? Unhealthy. _

Recalling the Stormwing sent Numair's mind off at a tangent. How did the immortal tie in to all this? Was it just coincidence? No. _Remember the feather. _Whilst it probably was simple revenge for the captive queen Barzha and her consort, Rikash obviously knew more than he was letting on. Did he know what had happened to Daine? Numair considered it. Probably not... he had a feeling that the Stormwing's sense of humour meant he would have been unable to keep silent had he known what would happen. And where had that feather idea come from? Surely it was no part of normal Stormwing magic. Tokens from immortals might have qualities as Rikash had said, but ones like Daine's claw came from gods, not lesser immortals. Maybe that was the Hag at work, too.

Thinking of Daine's badger claw brought him back to the animal god. No doubt the badger had been enlisted because of his tie to Daine, but why hadn't the Graveyard Hag intervened directly? She _was _a goddess, after all. Was it anything to do with Daine's father? So much had happened in the past few days that Numair hadn't had a chance to process the fact that his friend might only be half mortal.

This sort of speculation might be fascinating, but ultimately it was pointless, he decided. His thoughts were chasing in circles. As he was fond of telling Daine, it was useless to theorise without accurate information. All he really knew for sure was that the Graveyard Hag wanted to use Daine for something 'unhealthy' and portentous, presumably removing Ozorne from the imperial throne. That was quite enough to be going on with. Ozorne would no doubt object to this course of action, and Daine was already at risk of suffering the emperor's wrath, thanks to him.

The next question, of course, was what – if anything – he could do about it. There was no point trying to stop it from happening; Numair was quite probably the most powerful mortal in the world, but going up against one of the Great Gods would be like spitting at a forest fire. The only realistic course of action was simple survival. Numair glanced at the imperial dais and then looked back at his plate; the next move was Ozorne's.

His musing was interrupted by the round of applause that greeted the cake being wheeled in by slaves. Varice had been talking about nothing else all week; no matter how annoying that had been, Numair had to admit that he was impressed. It was a beautiful thing, and he joined the applause, making a note to try and be less dismissive. He was hardly in a position to poke holes in how someone else lived their life, after all, and this obviously made her happy. To his vague surprise, he felt envious; he'd never really felt the simple pride and satisfaction of creating something. His magic had forced him down different paths. Briefly, he found himself wondering how different his life would have been had he been able to become anything other than a war mage; then Varice screamed.

Chaos filled the dining room. For a moment all Numair could do was stare. Rats, scores of them, erupted from the rapidly-collapsing cake and flooded into the room as other voices joined Varice in screaming; belatedly Numair realised that he was on his feet, along with a lot of other people in the room, warriors and mages both, but there was nothing any of them could do.

He was searching the room without realising it, looking around frantically trying to take everything in – were there any injuries yet, how was Ozorne reacting, how many rats were there? A moment later he realised – _rats _– and turned to look towards Daine at the same instant he heard her yell, "Stop!"

Despite everything, he still couldn't help smiling; even now, in times of stress she still reverted to speaking aloud. The smile didn't last, though; this could be dangerous. There were a _lot _of rats. He lifted a hand glittering with black fire, then lowered it with a frustrated sound; he could do nothing without risking accidentally harming someone.

"I said, _stop!_" Daine shouted, and to his eyes the copper fire of her aura grew visible and flared outwards across the room. Every rat froze in place, held only by her force of will, and there was a deathly silence for a moment when it seemed nobody dared breathe for fear of shattering it.

"Imperial Majesty!" The harshly accented voice startled everyone in the room badly; like the others, Numair was turning to look at the speaker when he felt Daine's wild magic flare again and spun back towards her in time to see several rats slam to the ground, one snapping at her before she shook it off. She didn't seem remotely concerned; even so, Numair would have gone to her, but the man across the room was still shouting.

"Majesty, even you can't continue to ignore the portents! You must – "

That was as far as he got. A pale-faced Ozorne lifted a hand, his face a mask of fury, and emerald fire ate its way over the man almost before he could scream. His last shriek echoed in the room, the silence now filled with the tension created when everyone was too scared to move in case they drew attention to themselves.

All except Daine, anyway. She took a step forward, her eyes glittering, somehow giving the appearance of maintaining eye contact with dozens of rats at once, anger clear in every line of her body. This wasn't his young student; this was the Wildmage. One by one the rodents shrieked and squealed as they fought her power, the only sounds breaking the oppressive silence; the glow of copper fire in the air intensified. Slowly, reluctantly, the rats began to move once more, back the way they had come.

Numair breathed out again, sounds beginning to filter through the room as people began discussing what had happened in hushed voices. He glanced at Varice; she had fainted. Deciding he couldn't cope with that at the moment, he climbed onto his chair and from there onto the table, vaulting easily off the other side and landing beside Harailt. Digging his vial of wakeflower out of his pocket – why had he been carrying it, anyway? He always seemed to have it with him at the oddest times – he handed it to the other mage and pointed to Varice, heartlessly turning away before Harailt had a chance to protest and swiftly crossing the floor to Daine.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, reaching to cup her cheek in one hand. "One of them bit you – "

She smiled at him, looking a little shaken but mostly undisturbed by recent events. Lifting a hand, she indicated a rip in one sleeve. "Didn't even nick the skin. It was only _rats, _Numair." Her matter-of-fact tone made him smile in return. Maybe one day he would learn not to worry so much, given that his student was more than capable of looking after herself. _Yes, and maybe one day I'll learn to think before I speak, too. Probably the same day I learn some common sense. _Lowering his hand from her face, he turned his head and stared at the chaos surrounding them, shaking his head wryly.

"We need to get out of here before the sky starts raining blood or something equally pleasant," he remarked sarcastically.

* * *

Once Varice had come around from her faint, she had taken refuge in hysterics. She wasn't the only one, but Numair found it hard to be sympathetic; she hadn't been hurt, hadn't even been at risk of being hurt really, and given that he was friends with some of the strongest women he had ever known he had small patience for hysteria. In the end he'd persuaded her to take a sleeping draught and left her in her own rooms, escaping back to the guest quarters to join the other Tortallans for a long night of talking over what had happened.

Daine had wandered off with Kaddar; when she got back, she joined them long enough to reassure everyone that she was all right before going straight to bed. That seemed the cue for everyone else to decide that wasn't a bad idea; their discussion was going nowhere anyway, and presumably they would still be attending more negotiations tomorrow.

* * *

_Yes, folks, the Graveyard Hag has been messing with our mage's head. My reasoning is thus; Numair is incredibly intelligent. We've seen that before. Yes, he did miss the blinding obvious with Daine, but that was only once. And he's expecting something weird to happen here; he's actively looking for trouble. There is no way in the world that he wouldn't guess what was happening... unless someone was stopping him. It's not like our Numair to let go of a problem until he's solved it, now is it? You all knew something had to be going on. If you read the book, he does seem remarkably unconcerned about everything happening around him. Daine can suddenly resurrect dead animals and might be the daughter of a god and his reaction is basically, "That's nice. It can wait until we get home."_

_Now, several of you suggested reasons why he was acting so weirdly; he'd have sensed drugs or magic. Remember, he's expecting his life to be in danger; he'd be watching for assassins. But a god could play with his mind without him realising it. And the Hag wouldn't want him to work it out too early, because he'd go all overprotective and try and stop it and generally get in the way, as he does. She's been stopping other people from working it out, as well._

_He knows most of what's happening now. Doesn't seem to be stopping him being silly, though, is it? I hope you're all admiring the way he's deluding himself here, telling himself that he has to choose that particular subject to talk to Kaddar about. It's nothing to do with personal feelings whatsoever. No. Really. Ahem._

_I had no real reason to give him a migraine, I suppose. But it's not out of the question that he would have the mother of all stress headaches by this point, and it gave Alanna a reason to feel sorry for him rather than tearing a strip off him – fun as that would have been to write, Numair's in so much trouble already I just couldn't bring myself to have his friends all hating him as well._

_The part with the rats is all fairly self explanatory... I always found it amusing that Numair left Harailt to deal with Varice, though. "You take the hysterical fainting woman, I'll go talk to the one still making sense." Incidentally, why do you suppose Numair always seems to be carrying wakeflower with him?_

_Now, anyone who has a copy of Emperor Mage with them should have worked out why I wanted to reach this point before stopping. For those who don't, I'm not going to explain; let's just say that the next scene is when things start getting really, really interesting. And of course, by 'interesting' I mean that Numair's personal hell gets a great deal worse. I could have split this into two shorter chapters, but because I love you all I decided not to. I promise you, the upcoming chapters are going to be fun. If you want to read them, you know what you have to do now._

_**Loten.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_Okay, folks, we're going to be leaving canon behind for the next few chapters. This is the part where Ozorne kidnaps Daine; all we're told about what Numair does during this time is the brief dreamrose vision that Daine sees, and Numair himself saying he was hiding at the university. Now, this is Numair. How likely is it that he was just sitting around at the university twiddling his thumbs for several days? Exactly. So I came up with some things to keep him busy. If you thought he was getting stressed out in Power... You ain't seen nothin' yet. Things are getting pretty dark for our hero; he's not coping very well. Read on.

* * *

_

Things didn't go quite according to plan. Numair's dreams were extremely unsettled when he finally managed to fall asleep, flashes of distorted vague images that didn't make sense; something about bones, and a brief glimpse of a wooded valley he had never seen before, and lots of other things that he didn't remember when he woke up. Rolling over, he stared vaguely towards the window; it was almost dawn.

Briefly he considered getting up, and just as quickly rejected the idea; he'd never been a morning person and another couple of hours sleep sounded like a very good idea. Almost as soon as he closed his eyes again he was plunged into another dream, this one making even less sense; he was somewhere white and empty, and someone was very insistently trying to tell him something important, although he couldn't hear a word of it and didn't know who was speaking to him. The urgency in the muffled voice was unmistakeable, however, and he woke suddenly with a gasp, drenched in sweat and filled with an overwhelming sensation of dread; something was very wrong.

Shuddering fitfully as he tried to shake off the feeling of fear gripping him, he washed and dressed quickly, aware of raised voices outside. Raking his hair back from his face and tying it out of the way, he opened his door and walked into chaos. Every member of the delegation was shouting at one another; more than that, Imperial guards stood around the walls, swords drawn. Ice slithered down his spine; this could not be good.

"What's going on?" he asked nobody in particular; looking around for Daine, he realised that she wasn't there, and the feeling of dread intensified. Sudden silence filled the room at his words; nobody could meet his eyes. Swallowing hard, he looked at Alanna. "What's happened?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer before she replied.

"Daine's gone. Run away."

"_What?"_

Duke Gareth handed him a piece of paper. He scanned it briefly and felt his jaw tighten; as forgeries went, this was pathetic. He'd been Daine's teacher for three years; she could write and spell almost as well as he could. This had been written by someone who assumed that as a commoner and a woman she would be almost illiterate. The language used was wrong as well, but more than that, she would never have run without telling him. _She would never run from anything, come to that, even if she should. _

The silence in the room grew more oppressive. Looking up, he discovered that everyone was staring at him nervously, and wondered why. Then he realised that the note was starting to smoulder around the edges, and hastily gave it back to the duke before it caught fire; pain flared in his hand, and he registered that his fists were clenched so tightly that his nails were slicing into his palms. That was strange, he mused distantly; he felt quite calm, but apparently he wasn't.

"Why is everyone still here?" he asked. "Why aren't we looking for her?"

Lord Martin answered, somewhat unwisely; he didn't like the older man and had frequently found himself fighting the impulse to hit him with something over the last few weeks, and the noble's words now weren't helping his mood. "We are under guard while the palace is being searched; then we will be escorted to our ship, and we leave with the tide. The negotiations are over; the emperor is furious that a member of our party is a traitor."

Numair tasted blood. Not his lip this time; he'd bitten the inside of his cheek. "Don't be an idiot," he snapped. "Daine's no more a traitor than you or I. She hasn't run away, and we can't leave her here."

"Numair..." Duke Gareth said softly. He turned to stare at the old noble. "We have no choice. We're lucky to be allowed to leave at all."

Disbelief gripped him. They were really planning to abandon her? Increasingly frantic, he stared around the room. Nobody would meet his eyes but Alanna; he held her stare, almost pleading, and she shook her head slowly, walking over to him.

"Not now, Numair. We can't talk about it here. Let's just get to the ship for now, all right?"

His jaw tightened, but she was right. More guards were filing into the room now, and there were mages outside ready. He probably could break free, but the cost would be high and his friends might be hurt. He said nothing, standing and fuming in silence as their possessions were searched; his anger turned even colder when a guard reported that Daine's room had been stripped bare and that she had taken everything with her. _I'm sure all runaways stop to pack formal gowns and cosmetics. _He wanted to scream, to hit someone, to tear the city apart brick by brick until he found her.

* * *

Numair was barely aware of Harailt gripping his arm and talking to him on their way to the harbour, something about control. He had never been so furious, but despite that his mind was still working. Daine was alive; if she wasn't, every animal in a ten-mile radius would have gone berserk. He knew where she would be; drugged and unconscious in one of Ozorne's magic-dampening cells. He'd woken up there himself before. The cells wouldn't cancel wild magic; he didn't think that was possible. When she woke, every animal in the palace would know where she was. The emperor needed her alive; she was bait.

The word echoed through his brain, and he felt a surge of rage that dwarfed everything he had been feeling previously. Harailt let go of his arm abruptly, cursing and rubbing burned fingers; he felt bad about that, distantly, but it wasn't important. Furious energy coursed through him, and it took every scrap of control he possessed to keep from destroying everything around him.

By the time they reached Thak's Gate and boarded the ship, nobody could come near him. His power was boiling off him, scorching the air around him. Duke Gareth ordered everyone to their own cabins but for himself, Numair, Alanna, Lord Martin and Lindhall; that was a surprise, Numair reflected vaguely. He didn't remember when Lindhall had joined them. Everything seemed very far away at the moment except the rage burning in his blood. Dropping onto one of the bunks, he concentrated on breathing.

Most of what was being said passed him by completely. It was all meaningless noise as far as he was concerned; nothing mattered except that Daine was in real danger and being used as bait to lure him. So be it. Ozorne had no idea what a mistake he had made by touching the girl. Gradually a terrible sort of calm settled over him, his anger turning from blazing fury to something far colder and if anything more intense. This was the end game.

"Impossible," Lord Martin snapped, loudly enough to slice through the artificial stillness surrounding Numair now. "Our duty is to return home and warn the king." Distantly, Numair's mind formed a suggestion as to where the noble could shove his duty.

"She's one of _ours,_" Alanna retorted, causing a faint feeling of gratitude to soften a little of the icy rage gripping him; the Lioness understood. "That letter's a forgery – it must be. He's keeping her somewhere, and using it as a pretext to end the talks and declare war." _Exactly_. Why could nobody else see that?

"We cannot prove that, my child," Duke Gareth said sadly. "Neither can we help Daine; we _must _warn the country. As it is, Tortall will stand alone against him. By announcing it before the foreign ambassadors, he made certain they believed his proof that Daine conspires against him. As far as our allies are concerned, _we _caused the talks to fail."

That was all true, but did it matter? Any of the mages in the party could contact Jonathan in minutes; they didn't need to turn tail and run for home to warn the king. _Maybe you can't help Daine – or won't – but I can._

"You can warn Tortall, then, and the king," Numair said distantly; his voice was quiet, but cut through the room like a knife. "I won't leave without her." He wasn't arguing; it was a simple statement of fact. He might have been telling them that the sky was blue.

"We never should have brought that child," Lord Martin snapped. "I knew it would be trouble!" The older man had no idea how close he had come to death in that instant. Numair's anger flared, given a legitimate target, and he barely stopped himself from incinerating the noble as he left.

"Arram, there is more at stake than any girl, even this one." Lindhall. Very slowly, Numair turned his head to look at his old friend, close to hating him for a moment. _You're wrong. She's everything. _His former teacher stared at him intently. "The information passed to you – contacts, new routes for the slave underground, conspirator's names – it _must _go north, _now, _before the borders are closed by war. We may have to get the prince out in a hurry if the emperor begins to suspect him, and the only way to do it safely is to have all prepared on your end."

Numair shook his head slowly. "I don't care. Someone else can take the information to the king." Disappointing Lindhall, risking Kaddar; utterly unimportant now.

Alanna spun around suddenly, slamming both fists into the wall. He sympathised entirely. If he wasn't feeling so cold and distant, he might have been tempted to do the same. "I _hate _not doing something! I _hate _it! I want to go back there and – " She didn't finish the sentence, apparently unable to think of something bad enough. He'd never loved his old friend more. _I'll do it for both of us._

"You cannot, my dear," Duke Gareth said sympathetically. Numair decided that the duke's sympathy belonged in the same place as Lord Martin's duty, for all the good it was going to do. "We are going to war. Your place is at home, with the king and his armies." Alanna turned away, looking like she was about to cry, and the duke looked at him.

"Numair, if you choose to remain, I cannot stop you – you are too great a mage. Please think, then. The emperor is mad, but not stupid. He _knows _you wouldn't leave Daine here. My concern is that he has planned for just that eventuality." By every god, didn't Gareth understand yet? That was _all_ that this was about. Ozorne had no idea that Daine was going to be involved in the coming firestorm. He had targeted her purely to get his hands on Numair once more, revenge for a grudge that had been brewing for almost a decade, because he knew that was what would hurt Numair most.

"I'm aware of the danger, Your Grace," he replied quietly, glancing at Lindhall. "I have taken precautions. They may be enough. Ozorne has trouble believing in his heart that anyone else has more of the Gift than he does, even when his mind knows that there are more powerful mages. I can use that to fool him. As for the knowledge of the prince's conspiracy – "

"Give it to me," Alanna said hoarsely. "It's the least I can do." He could have kissed her simply for being almost as worried for Daine as he was. Barely waiting for Gareth's nod, he crossed the tiny room to her and rested his hands on her temples.

Passing the information took less than a breath, but he stayed in contact with her for a moment more, thoughts travelling swiftly through the link. '_Want the barrier spells, too?'_

'_None of us understand them. If you don't come back, I don't think losing those spells will be our biggest problem.'_

'_I'll bring her home safely.'_

'_Or die trying?'_

'_Now, that won't help anyone.'_

There was a hint of tearful laughter in her thoughts. '_You know you're the real target. You've expected this all along, and nobody else believed you.'_

'_Well, I'm used to that,' _he told her. '_I planned for this.'_

'_How?'_

'_Never mind. Just... don't believe anything you might hear.' _He dug into his pocket with one hand, the other remaining on Alanna's temple, and passed her a small crystal. '_Keep this with you. Not touching bare skin, mind. When everything's over, I'll use it to call you; if it heats up, get to a fire.' _He hesitated. '_If... if something goes wrong... If I die, it will shatter. Otherwise, assume that everything's going according to plan, no matter what you hear.'_

'_Numair, how dangerous is this? Have you worked out what's happening?'_

'_More or less, I think. A few details are somewhat vague still, but the important part is that Daine's being used by the Graveyard Hag.'_

'_What?'_

'_Ozorne has no idea that she really is a threat to him. One way or another, he's not going to be emperor for much longer. Apart from anything else, if the gods don't act, I'm going to kill him myself for this.'_

She shivered a little at his tone. '_Numair... be careful. We need both of you alive and safe.'_

'_Don't worry. I could never give up the chance to be able to say 'I told you so' later. Besides, Ozorne made one mistake.'_

'_What's that?'_

'_He never should have touched her.' _His thoughts were still eerily calm. Hurting Daine was the one thing he could never forgive. Ozorne might as well have signed his own death warrant. '_Do you really think there's anything that can stop me from bringing her safely home? Even the gods can't make me leave her.' _Drawing away, he sent the Lioness one final thought. '_I promise.'_

Straightening up, he looked around the room and suddenly grinned. "See you all in a few days," he said flippantly, then crossed the room as the wards fell and was out of the door before any of them could say anything. Distantly he heard Alanna call after him, wishing him good luck, then he was on the deck and scrambling over the rail, leaping to the dockside and running into the crowded port.

* * *

Dodging through the crowds and weaving through the streets of Thak's Gate, Numair barely stopped himself from laughing hysterically. What on earth was he doing? The sensible thing would have been to use an invisibility spell or shapeshift and accompany Lindhall back to the university, instead of acting like a fool. Now he had half a regiment of the Imperial Guard behind him, and a couple of hours until Lindhall would be back to help him.

Still, maybe this was better. He couldn't have tolerated any more time sitting and doing nothing. Scholar and academic though he was, there was a primitive streak in him that occasionally needed mindless action; something like this was perfect to help clear his head and calm him down a little so that he could later focus on what needed to be done.

_Just like old times,_ he told himself, starting to laugh. He remembered doing this before, running for his life. This time he wasn't weak and injured, and this time it wasn't his own life on the line; he wasn't trying to get to a ship but back into Carthak City. The same principles still applied, however; still laughing, a little wildly now, he abruptly spun around and sprinted down an alley.

There were no mages following him, understandably. He was supposed to escape the guard, to give Ozorne the chance to declare him a traitor as well and call for his death. _Best not disappoint them, then. _Slowing down at the other end of the alley, he threaded his way through the crowd filling the busy plaza beyond and chose another street.

_Hold on, Daine. I'm coming. _Not that he had any real idea of how he was going to find her; the cells were no longer where he remembered them, and would cancel his Gift. Maybe he should make a focus; it would have come in useful many times before this. Something to think about later, though; he didn't have time to think now, not if he was to stay sane, because he would only start dwelling on what might be happening to her and then he'd snap completely. There were tears on his face as he ran, mingling with the sweat his exertion was producing; he didn't notice.

Soon, Numair reached the area he'd been trying to get to; an absolute rabbit warren, a real maze of hundreds of near-identical narrow, crooked alleyways where even lifelong residents could get lost. He had no idea where he was at the moment, but he was certain that his pursuers didn't either; besides, he wouldn't be here long. All he needed was to increase his lead to the point where he was out of sight for a couple of minutes, and quickly he had just such an opportunity.

Moments later the black hawk took to the air, rising rapidly on the thermals of Carthak's heat reflected from the port. Raptor's vision showed him the guards, now hopelessly lost, separating and trying to search systematically; he barely stopped himself from screeching triumphantly, recalling at the last minute that he wasn't supposed to draw attention to himself.

The next step was to get back to Lindhall's rooms in the university. He headed that way, hoping that his friend would have returned by now, trying to formulate a working plan. He'd have to find a likely hiding place for the simulacrum, hidden enough to be plausible but exposed enough that the guards would find it, and nowhere near Lindhall or anybody else who might be implicated with him. Then would come the difficult part; he'd have to sit and wait for it to be discovered, and control it through whatever followed. Once the simulacrum had been executed – once Ozorne believed that Numair was dead – he'd be free to move without fear; only then could he look for Daine.

Waiting that long was going to be very difficult, but there wasn't much choice. He wouldn't be able to find her until whatever drug Ozorne had used wore off; once that happened, any animal could lead him straight to her. It was possible he might be able to sense her on his own, come to that, once she was awake; the cells couldn't cancel wild magic. He wasn't sure anything could, and if he didn't know then nobody else would.

A thought nagged at the back of his mind; when he had been in that situation, once he'd woken up Ozorne had decided to play. What if that happened to Daine? He didn't want to think about it, but it was possible. Well, he'd stick to the plan as long as it was a realistic option, but he was flexible. If Daine was hurt, every animal in the area would react; if that happened, Numair decided, he'd rip the entire palace apart down to the foundations, brick by brick, until he'd found the cells. It lacked subtlety and would certainly make him a target, but it would work. And if Ozorne killed her? That icy cold settled into his mind again. If that happened, Carthak was doomed. Numair was quite prepared to tear the entire continent apart in retribution, if necessary, as long as Ozorne died. Let the gods play games if they wanted; he wasn't going to.

With that settled, his mind once again functioning and calm in a cold albeit possibly psychotic manner, Numair took stock of his surroundings and found himself circling above the university. Not only that, he spotted Lindhall a long way below him, just entering the building; a few minutes later a window opened, and the hawk glided down and inside.

Shifting back, Numair stretched, still surprisingly calm. This couldn't be healthy, really, but it was better than losing his temper; that wouldn't do Daine any good, and she was what mattered now. Turning, he met his old friend's eyes; Lindhall looked worried.

"Numair, are you all right?"

"I think so, so far," he answered honestly. Truthfully, he suspected that if he was thinking a little more clearly he might be concerned about his mental health. He shrugged. "We'll see. I don't suppose you know how to get into the cells any more?"

"No. I'd have told you already if I knew. But what makes you so certain that she's there?"

"Because there's nowhere else Ozorne could dare put her. He knows I'll be coming for her; that was the point." He padded through into the other room and tugged the cloth away from the simulacrum, looking down at it. This was his best work; it had taken weeks to perfect it.

"Arram – Numair, be reasonable. You don't know if she's even alive."

"Yes, I do," he replied calmly, crouching beside the low table where the simulacrum lay, considering what was left to do. He looked up. "Lindhall, if she was dead, your animals would be screaming. So would the animals in the imperial menagerie across the river; so would every noble's pet, every soldier's horse, every merchant's mule, every street cur. I know you're afraid for me, but please stop trying to talk me out of this."

His former teacher sighed worriedly, running his fingers through his greying gold hair. "There's so much that could go wrong. You barely got away last time; what if you can't manage it again?"

Sitting back on his heels, Numair looked up. "As long as I can get Daine out safely, I honestly don't care," he replied quietly. If his death was what it took, well, there were far worse reasons to die. Lindhall looked shocked.

"She really means that much to you?"

"Yes." There was a long silence; realising what Lindhall was thinking, Numair shook his head hastily, struggling to explain something he had never had words for. "Not like that! Daine is – it's hard to say. Part of me, almost. It's more than friends, or even family. We... understand one another. She's the only one who has never been afraid of me and what I can do."

"You wouldn't be able to say that if she'd seen you earlier," Lindhall said soberly. "You were... terrifying."

"I know. I'm sorry about that. But that's how much she means to me, you see." He paused, trying to find the right words, and suddenly a memory of wolves rose in his mind; he laughed aloud. "She's pack." Lindhall gave him a blank look, clearly wondering if his mind had slipped, and Numair smiled wryly. "Sorry. Daine introduced me as her pack to a group of wolves once. I'm not sure I fully understood it until now."

"Wolves?"

"Not even close to the strangest thing we've ever done together." Pack was a pretty good description, Numair decided, thinking about how Brokefang and the Long Lake wolves had lived. He and Daine worked together, hunted together, travelled together; each accepted the other, completely, without question, and when they needed to they could act in perfect unison without needing to consult one another, almost communicating without words. He would die for her, and she for him. No point trying to explain that, even if he could find the words; Lindhall looked bewildered enough as it was. "Never mind now. Help me with this."

His friend shook his head, walking over to look down at the simulacrum. "This is extremely disturbing. If you weren't here, I wouldn't be able to tell it wasn't real."

"That's the general idea."

"There's even a heartbeat. I don't know how I could have explained it if anyone had found it."

"It wouldn't fool a healer's magic," Numair noted. He hadn't been able to recreate brainwaves; probably just as well, since the implications of that were too frightening for words. Still, the chances of anyone attempting to heal him were zero. Lindhall laughed.

"You haven't changed. This is the most impressive piece of spellcraft I have ever seen, and all you can think about is what's wrong with it."

Numair laughed with him. _And I'm still trying to impress my teacher. _"I can't help it, you know that. But this will work, once it's finished. Can you think of somewhere to hide it? It should be inside the university, so it's obvious enough to be found, but still well hidden enough to be plausible. Nowhere near your rooms, or anyone else's. And there needs to be enough room for me to hide nearby."

"I think so. What are you planning, Numair? I thought this was only in case you were caught."

"Not quite. I did plan to do that originally, but it would have been too difficult to predict. If I can control when, where and how the simulacrum is found, I'll know the exact moment when Ozorne thinks I'm dead. Once he thinks he's won, I'm free to move as I please; otherwise I'd be tied to this, waiting, so I could react properly when they did catch me."

"I... suppose that does make sense. But will it go the way you think?"

"Probability says so. Daine's capture was bait, and obviously so. That letter was a very clumsy forgery." Lindhall raised an eyebrow and Numair grinned wryly at him. "She's had me teaching her for three years. Do you really think I'd have let her continue writing and spelling so atrociously?"

"Good point."

"Anyway, Ozorne intended it to draw me out. Thanks to my own stupidity, he knows it will work, that I'd risk anything to protect her. By now he knows I escaped the guards in Thak's Gate; he'll be giving orders to search the city. He wants to find me, so I'll let him." Numair indicated the simulacrum. "I know he'd really love to make my death as drawn out and excruciating as possible, but he can't. He won't dare risk me escaping a second time, because he surely knows I'd kill him if I did, and he's still playing games with the other ambassadors. They'll let him execute a traitor, but they won't stand for torture. If I make the death look convincing, he'll think he's won."

"He won't need Daine alive, then," Lindhall pointed out softly. "What's to stop him from simply killing her?"

"It's possible, I admit, but I think he'd rather keep her. Her magic fascinates him; besides, she'd be a living reminder of his triumph." Numair smiled sourly. "He doesn't know her well enough to realise that nothing he can do would make her cooperate."

"If you're wrong?"

He was silent for some time before he replied. "If she dies, you need to get as far away from Carthak as possible, very quickly, with anything or anyone that you care about."

"Numair..."

"I mean it. Ozorne made a big mistake when he chose her as bait to get to me. If she's hurt, I'll kill him. If she dies, I will destroy his empire."

"You're frightening me."

"I know," he replied sadly. Lindhall had been the most accepting of his teachers, but there were limits. "If it makes you feel better, the gods might beat me to it," he offered; after a moment his friend laughed wryly.

"I'd almost forgotten that. Do you know what's going on?"

"Some of it, but I suspect I won't be allowed to explain it." He turned back to the simulacrum, his Gift beginning to sparkle around his hands. Lindhall leaned closer to watch, fascinated, his earlier fear forgotten.

"What's left to do?"

"Not much, really. I need to infuse more of my Gift into the matrix of the spells holding it together, make it as close to my own aura as possible, but that should be it. At the moment it scans as a weaker mage; I need it to resemble myself, weakened."

"You're using a lot of power," Lindhall noted.

"I know, but that's all right. Once the simulacrum's 'dead' and no longer necessary, I can reabsorb most of the power I put into it."

"Is that possible?"

"Yes. Uncomfortable, though." Numair sat back on his heels once more and looked up at his friend. "I can explain it all to you on the way back to Tortall," he offered.

"Tortall?"

"Yes, unless you planned to stay here once the gods are through with this place? You told me yourself, Lindhall, all that ties you here is what you've been doing to help the slaves, and trying to help Kaddar. Come back with us. Our university would love to have you, and I know you miss home." He smiled. "Daine's not the only one to notice that all your birds are from the north."

"Are you free to make this kind of offer?"

"Jon owes me several very large favours for making me come here in the first place. I suspect he'd be willing to grant a few more just to stop me saying 'I told you so' repeatedly," Numair answered, standing up. "I'm absolutely serious, Lindhall. You were always too good for this place, and I'd like you to see my home." He added persuasively, "Just think of what you could learn from the royal library, and what Daine could tell you about animals..."

Lindhall tried to scowl, but failed. "You know me far too well." He sighed, his eyes distant. "I'll think about it."

Numair nodded and stretched, looking down into his own face; he had to admit that the likeness was disturbing, although the simulacrum looked a lot better rested and less stressed than he suspected he did. "Time to relocate, then, before the guards come looking. Oh – Daine still has my cat's-eye. Well, I suppose Ozorne has it now. Do you have another I could use? No point using any more power than I have to."

* * *

_Oh dear. Numair's starting to crack up. It's understandable, though; this is his worst nightmare come to life. Ozorne, the man he's feared for the past decade or so, the man who's put him through such trauma that he can't bring himself to think about it clearly, has taken the one person he cares about more than anything else. This goes way beyond losing his temper; this is the very worst point of Numair's life, and I think it remains so. Even with everything else that happens, in Realms of the Gods and the Protector and Trickster series, I don't think anything comes close to the sheer horror of realising that Ozorne has Daine. And worse, it's at least partly Numair's fault._

_Before anyone points it out to me, no, he didn't actually tell Alanna about the Hag. The goddess is still interfering; Alanna didn't hear him say it. That's why she said 'what?' in response._

_And Numair still hasn't realised that maybe his attitude to Daine is a little peculiar. He's actually managing to justify himself pretty convincingly. Not that it's helping; I have several possible scenes in mind for a story later on when Daine and Numair tell everyone about their relationship, and Lindhall's reaction was the easiest one to write – let's just say he doesn't believe a word that Numair's saying now. Plus, we get to revisit my favourite line of the entire series again, just because it's cute. Numair understands it now._

_So, the current situation: Numair's on his own (except for Lindhall, who can't really help). He's broken the terms of his imperial pardon, so that's grounds for his arrest before any invented treason charges come into play. He's starting to lose his grip to the extent that his friends are terrified of him. And at the back of his mind he is constantly trying not to imagine just what Ozorne might do to Daine, which isn't helping him to stay sane. He's a mess of fear and rage and guilt and sheer panic right now, and it's only going to get worse._

_Next chapter, he has to fake his own death. And that's not going to do anything to mess him up. It doesn't entirely go according to plan, either. Reviews get you mage torture! Also, an appeal; does anyone have a link to an image of the map of the Divine Realms? My original copy of RotG had one at the front, but the copy I have now doesn't, and I can't find it online. Thanks.  
_

_**Loten.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_Everyone seems to love the fact that Numair is reacting along the exact same lines as Daine. See, this is why they're the perfect couple; they're both very scary sometimes. There's nothing they wouldn't do for one another, up to and including destroying empires, and they do tend to think the same way. IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END. Again.

* * *

_That night was probably the worst of his entire life, Numair thought later. He was crouched on top of a pile of crates in a storeroom somewhere in the depths of the university, rendered invisible by Lindhall's cats-eye; the simulacrum was crouched behind some of the crates in a corner. Sheer exhaustion meant that Numair had dozed briefly, but there was no chance of him truly sleeping until this was resolved.

He had raided Lindhall's rooms; in addition to the cat's-eye he had several pieces of assorted magical paraphernalia with him, all related to scrying spells in one form or another. Even though he knew they wouldn't work, he was systematically trying them all in turn anyway, simply because he could not physically wait here doing nothing. He'd attempted to meditate briefly, and given it up; his mind was not going to be calm and peaceful for a very long time yet.

In between fruitless attempts to scry Daine out, he had focused on others. He'd found Kitten, spelled asleep and locked in the immortal's menagerie in the palace; it would have been nice to get her out of there, but she was perfectly safe for now. Alanna was being sick when he saw her, from which he deduced that the Tortallan delegation had set sail and were on their way home. Ordinarily the image would have made him smile, but he wasn't in any fit state to do so at the moment. Kaddar was asleep, tossing and turning fitfully; the young man seemed unhappy, which wasn't really all that surprising. Ozorne was awake, doing paperwork in the aviary; Numair stared at the emperor's image for a long time, until the crystal he'd been using cracked in half.

Putting the scrying tools down carefully, he spent a few minutes in meditative breathing, forcing a measure of surface calm over himself. He really had frightened Lindhall earlier, and Alanna and the others before that; truthfully, Numair was scaring himself at the moment. He'd never felt anything like this before. Usually his temper flared hot and immediate, when it could be roused at all, and was quickly forgotten; he didn't hold grudges for long. This cold, deliberate anger was unusual and a little frightening.

Once he was calmer, he made several more unsuccessful attempts to find Daine before giving up and resigning himself to a very long night. Where on earth were the guards? The university should have been the first place they looked. It was big, but not that big.

Finally, when it was almost dawn, someone kicked down the door of the storeroom. _About time. _Numair looked down from his perch and concentrated; his double stood up slowly, an unsettling smile crossing its face, and stared towards the guards. _"What kept you?"

* * *

_

The fight that had resulted was brief but ugly. Numair had killed several of the guards; he felt horribly guilty about that, but it wasn't the first time. Realism was essential, and had it really been him they had cornered he would have fought like a wounded badger – _hah – _and done anything, _anything _to get away. He had done before, after all. Working magic through the simulacrum was very difficult, but that wasn't necessarily a problem; it added to the illusion that he was weakened, low on power. It helped when one of the guard hit the simulacrum over the head to subdue it, too; it was far easier to maintain the appearance of unconsciousness and left him free to concentrate on following them while maintaining the invisibility spell.

Ozorne's gloating expression was obscene. Fortunately, however, the Emperor Mage didn't address him directly. That was just as well; the cold, tight feeling in Numair's head was increasing, and he knew he could not hold his temper if the emperor decided to get personal. Had Ozorne said anything at all about Daine, Numair would have lost what little sanity he might still possess and torn the place apart. Instead, he concentrated with everything he had on maintaining the simulacrum's status as half-conscious, injured, drained and furious. _Not much acting required._

His execution was scheduled for noon, less than an hour away now, and nicely public in the middle of the main plaza; the simulacrum sagged in its chains at the moment, tied to a post. Numair himself was on the rooftops, still shielded by Lindhall's cat's-eye; the stone didn't have much left, soon he'd have to take on the invisibility spell himself, but he'd have power from the simulacrum's destruction. _Thank the gods mages are still killed by fire. _There would be no dead body to maintain.

There was a sizeable crowd gathering now. He recognised many of the faces, people he'd known well once, but felt nothing. This wasn't his home any more; in fact, really, it never had been. Tortall was home, far more so than Tyra or Carthak ever were. He had never belonged here. It had been necessary and useful – where else could he have developed the knowledge and power of a black robe? The City of the Gods used different teaching methods – but this had never felt like home. There were no old friends here, nobody he'd miss, except Lindhall.

Scanning the growing assembly, he saw his former teacher off to one side, white-faced and ill. Of course, Lindhall would have no way of knowing whether this was the simulacrum or the real Numair until afterwards, and was obviously assuming the worst. It would not have been the first time the older man would have had to stand and watch as someone he knew and liked was executed; Numair hoped he would take up the offer and return to Corus with them. Lindhall was far too good a man for Carthak.

Kaddar was on the dais not far from where the simulacrum was chained, in the full ceremonial garb of the imperial heir; he too was pale beneath the careful cosmetics, and trying very hard not to look at the prisoner whilst being unable to avoid the occasional glance. From his vantage point on the roof, Numair saw guilt in the young man's face and felt sorry for him, in a distant way; Lindhall had been right, the emperor's nephew was a good man and would have been a good ruler. Maybe he would get the chance, but it didn't seem all that likely.

As noon approached, Numair eventually remembered Varice. He probably should have spared a thought for her earlier, really; that wasn't good and didn't make him feel any better about himself. She had been one of the last to arrive and was standing with Lindhall now, crying fitfully in a way that indicated she was in shock. Uneasily he wondered just how much she really cared for him; he cared about her, a little, but more for what they had once shared than anything that might be between them now. For now, she would have to go on believing that this was real. Afterwards... It was horribly tempting to leave her believing that he was dead, but that was not fair. Afterwards, he would find her, and he would try to explain himself, and he would apologise – for all the good that would do.

Having made that decision, he didn't spare her another thought, instead turning once again to fretting over Daine. She should have come around by now; what had Ozorne used to drug her? It couldn't have been a sleep spell like the one that bound Kitten, because that wouldn't work in the cells.

He could see the Graveyard Hag's temple from here, distantly; it was second only to Mithros' in size, reflecting the goddess' status in the empire. Scowling at the building's roof, he wondered if he would ever learn what had happened. His private speculation had carried him as far as possible without more information; there was nothing left to think about now. And truthfully it was getting harder to think; he felt almost feverish, desperate to do something, anything. The more time that passed before he found Daine, the less likely it was that he could find her, and he was slightly concerned about his own state of mind at the moment.

Ozorne appeared on the stroke of noon, at his most grand and imperial, and made a speech. Numair listened with half an ear; it wasn't a bad speech actually, full of stirring phrases about the glory and power of Carthak and how the empire would never fall to such petty attempts at treachery as they had witnessed from the cowardly northerners. Such betrayal could never be forgiven; the armies were mustering; Carthak was going to war. _Nobody saw that one coming. _Numair shifted position and wished the emperor would get on with it; his leg was going numb.

Finally Ozorne walked across the dais to confront the simulacrum. This was going to be the big test, but Numair wasn't worried – he wouldn't even have been worried had he been in a normal state of mind. The Emperor Mage was arrogant; it would never occur to him that anyone was clever enough to fool him. Staring down at his enemy's face, Numair's fingers twitched; it was so tempting to strike. He could melt Ozorne into a puddle before anyone could stop him. He was actually lifting his hand to do so when the muscles of his arm locked, cramped and spasmed painfully, his hand twitching uncontrollably. Barely stopping himself from crying out, he gritted his teeth and used his other hand to lower the limb, which had gone rigid and was no longer under his control; the pain faded slowly. Evidently it wasn't time to stop Ozorne yet, and wasn't his job either.

_One-eyed, rat-loving witch! You could have just told me not to! _Then again, he probably wouldn't have listened. And cursing at a goddess was the ultimate exercise in futility. Rubbing his hand – his fingers were still locked in a rigid claw, and tingled unpleasantly – he turned his attention to his double. The simulacrum raised its head, its face streaked with blood; Numair gathered moisture from the air on the dais, allowing the copy to spit in Ozorne's face defiantly. The emperor's fury was almost as good as hurting him would have been.

The tingling faded from Numair's fingers, but he'd learned his lesson and didn't attempt to strike at the emperor again. The Hag had better hope that Daine was unhurt, though; if anything happened to her, Numair would kill Ozorne even if the goddess melted both his arms off trying to stop him. Reaching out, he found the complex matrix of spells that made up the fabric of the copy, partly blending with his own aura as he assumed full control over it once more. It was ironic, really; this was some of his best work, weeks of hard labour, and it had only lasted a few hours before it would be destroyed.

The simulacrum struggled to its feet and stood proudly in its chains, staring through Ozorne disdainfully, refusing to surrender right to the end. Numair hoped that he'd be able to react like this should he ever face death for real, but he suspected he would not; he didn't think he was that brave. The emperor's face was a mask of barely-hidden fury; there was no trace of sanity in the hard amber eyes. Raising a trembling hand that glittered with green fire, Ozorne spoke the ritualised words declaring the mage Numair Salmalín, formerly known as Arram Draper, a traitor to the Empire – _again _– guilty of, amongst other things, conspiracy to commit treason, conspiring to attack the Imperial throne and several counts of murder; and pronouncing death upon him. Emerald flames leaped to consume the simulacrum.

Numair had miscalculated badly. Partly linked to the simulacrum to draw off the power that had animated it and thus restore his own flagging energy levels, he had not realised that it left him vulnerable to the spell used to end its life. Unbelievable pain ripped through him, and if he hadn't wedged himself into a corner behind a chimney he would have fallen off the roof as he thrashed. Someone was still watching him, it seemed; the same power that had disabled his arm before now locked his throat and jaws shut, leaving him unable to make a sound; instead he forced the simulacrum to scream for him, a terrible sound of agony.

Only when the flames died and showed nothing left but the chains that had bound the copy did the pain fade a little, enough for Numair to realise that it was just pain. He had no physical injuries; the burns were felt but not actually there. This was no comfort at all, since they felt just the same. Tears poured down his face; the force grabbing his throat relaxed enough to allow him to breathe, although he couldn't make any noise yet. Struggling for air, sobbing silently with the pain, he blacked out for a short while.

* * *

When he came to himself once more, the square was empty. He had no idea how much time had passed. The pain was still very bad, but nothing compared to how it had initially felt. Breathing hard, he moved carefully; it _hurt, _but he could move. His eyes watering, he checked himself over carefully and found himself uninjured; oddly it seemed unfair that he could be in this much pain with nothing to show for it. Still, it could be worse; he had regained quite a lot of power before the agony of being burned alive had broken his concentration. He was shaking, but seemed able to function. Time to get out of here.

Shape-shifting was painful, but not as bad as it could have been. The cat's-eye still held enough to get him back to the university unseen; then he would have to rest for a little while no matter what he wanted to do. After that, he could start looking for Daine. His wings working stiffly, the black hawk began a wavering flight towards Lindhall's rooms, hoping there wouldn't be any more delays.

He'd had to stop several times to rest, perched in the shadow of a chimney or a gable and panting fitfully, but the pain was easing. And Lindhall had left the window open. He all but fell from the sill into the temporary sanctuary of his friend's rooms, forcing himself to change form once more and trying not to whimper; struggling to his feet, he was almost knocked over by Lindhall.

"Arram, by all the gods! I thought when you didn't come back that they had you." The older man had been weeping.

Numair managed a shaky smile. "No such luck, I'm afraid," he said hoarsely. Lindhall laughed unsteadily and looked him over.

"Where have you been? Are you hurt?"

"Not... exactly. I overlooked something, that's all."

"Explain." Numair couldn't help but smile; how many times had he heard Lindhall say exactly that, in that precise tone?

"As above, so below," he said slowly, himself not entirely certain what had happened. "It's to do with the way I built the simulacrum. It's not the usual way."

"I guessed as much. It's far too... real. How did you do it?"

He hesitated, remembering far too many situations where he had to admit to his teacher that he'd tried something very stupid and/or dangerous. Faced with Lindhall's stern look, he sighed and admitted quietly, "It has – had – blood and hair woven into it."

Lindhall swore; it was the first time Numair had ever heard him do so. "I can't believe you were that stupid! The risk – "

"There was no risk, not the way you're thinking. And it had to be done. It had to look real. If I hadn't, if it had just been pure magic and engineering, it wouldn't have worked."

"No risk? How can you possibly say that? You know as well as I do what could have happened if another mage had found your blood or hair! They could have compelled you to do anything!"

"No, they couldn't, Lindhall," Numair answered very quietly. "To compel someone magically, you have to be stronger than they are. There's nobody in the country strong enough to control me. And truthfully, the way I feel right now, I'm not sure there's anyone in the mortal realms strong enough. In any case, it's done now; everything's been destroyed. Please stop. I really don't want an argument. I took the risks I felt were necessary, and I'm glad I did."

There was a long silence while Lindhall thought things over and while Numair found himself musing vaguely that he'd actually missed being told off. Finally his old teacher sighed. "I suppose you're right. But by all the gods, Numair, I always told you that someday you'd be the death of me."

"I'll be the death of myself first," he replied, almost smiling for the first time in days.

Lindhall smiled back at him. "Probably. So what happened to you, then? You're obviously hurt."

"In order to regain power from the simulacrum, I had to... it's complicated, I'll tell you sometime, but in essence I bound the spells holding it together with my own aura. What I didn't realise was that it left me open to whatever happened to it, especially with the link created by my blood and hair. So when Ozorne cast the fire..."

"You felt it," Lindhall whispered, sounding horrified.

Numair nodded stiffly and regretted it. "I felt it. No, don't fuss," he added, lifting a hand. "There's not a mark on me. And it doesn't hurt as much as it did." Even so, it was a relief to sit down. "What's going on?"

"The armies march in three days. Messenger birds have been sent to your friends aboard their ship, and directly to Corus, informing them that Daine is still at large and that you have been captured and executed." Lindhall's voice cracked a little on the last word; Numair winced and hoped that Alanna would trust him and remember the crystal he'd given her. "I don't know if war has been officially declared or not; I don't suppose it matters now. Rumours are everywhere; the statue of the Mother Goddess wept blood this morning, apparently. There have been other things too, but mostly hearsay. Nobody seems to know what's going on. The emperor has given orders that he is not to be disturbed; I haven't seen Kaddar. And I haven't noticed any unusual animal activity."

Numair sat and thought for a while. It was difficult; the pain was a constant background throb at the back of his mind, and the cold tight anger hadn't lessened in the slightest. Lindhall brought him something oily and foul-smelling to drink; it tasted worse than it smelled, but it eased some of the pain, and he nodded gratefully before returning to staring blankly at the wall.

Finally he sighed. "I don't think there will be a war. Everything's moving too fast; I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I don't think Ozorne's going to be emperor for much longer. There might not even be an empire left. I think I've worked out who's behind it, but they won't let me say so. You remember Daine's choking fit? I think she was trying to tell us."

Lindhall shrugged and smiled wryly. "I was never one for riddles like this, Numair. I like solid facts. This is more your game than mine."

"Believe me, I'm so far out of my depth I'm not certain of _anything _right now, including my own name," he replied with an equally wry smile. "In any case, we're running out of time. Speaking of which, what _is _the time?"

"Almost nightfall."

"What?"

"It was a good two and a half hours before you got back. And in case you didn't realise, you've been sitting and staring into space for more than that."

"...I have?"

"Numair, you need to rest. When did you last get any sleep?"

He thought about it. "The night before last."

"I saw you that morning. You didn't sleep, or if you did, it wasn't for long. You have to get some rest, or you won't be able to help Daine."

"She should have come round by now, Lindhall. Whatever Ozorne gave her shouldn't have lasted this long."

"I know, my boy, I know, but there's nothing you can do about it now. Eat something, then try and get some rest, at least until full dark. It's too dangerous for you to do anything until then." Lindhall's voice was soothing, as though he was talking to a child. Irritatingly, he was right.

* * *

Exhaustion had forced Numair to rest, but nothing in any realm of the universe could have made it peaceful and in the end it probably did more harm than good. Truly horrific nightmares stalked his sleep; nothing specific, just flashes, but all unsurprisingly involving Daine. His own experiences when he'd fled Carthak blended with rumours of what had befallen others and his imagination added to the mix; he woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and trying not to be sick.

Shaking and only semi-coherent, he was pacing back and forth now, watched by an increasingly nervous-looking Lindhall. "I can't take this. I _need _to do something. She needs help, Lindhall, and I've failed her. What's coming... I don't know how we're going to survive. Does Kaddar know where the cells are?"

"Numair... You've asked me that three times already. No, he doesn't. I'm not sure he even knows for certain that they exist. And I don't want him involved in this. If you're right, Carthak will need him alive."

Growling wordlessly in response, Numair paced around the room a little faster, adrenaline squirreling around his body and making his muscles twitch with the need to do something, anything.

"Numair. Numair, can you hear me?" Lindhall's voice intruded. He looked up, irritated.

"What?"

"I've been trying to talk to you for the last five minutes. What's wrong? I've seen you scared, and I've seen you angry, and I've seen you hurt. This isn't right. Please, stop and think for a moment."

He halted obediently and took a deep breath, his eyes half-closing. The familiar smells of Lindhall's rooms reached him; the dust-and-paper of books, the dry reptilian smell of some of the animals, the faint odour of the chemicals he used in some of his workings. It was the smell of his boyhood, in many ways; he'd spent most of his teenage years here. Slowly, some of the tightness in his chest eased, and he let out the breath he had been holding. Lindhall was right, as he always had been; this wasn't like him.

"I don't know what's wrong," he said softly, realising as he said it that _that _was what was wrong. "Lindhall... I don't know what to do. I've been in some desperate situations before, but I always had a plan then, even if it wasn't a very good one. I can't think straight. I don't think I've ever been so scared."

"For her?" It wasn't really a question. He nodded mutely, then found his voice.

"For me, too. I have a good life in Tortall, I have a circle of friends I trust. But sometimes... I've written to you about some of the things we do. Sometimes things come up, dangerous situations. Several times I've been the only one who can act, and to do it I've had to use magic so far beyond what anyone else can do... It creates a distance. My friends trust me, but there's a part of each of them that's always a little afraid of what I'm capable of. Like you." He smiled sadly, and Lindhall returned it; they both knew it was true.

Numair took a breath and continued softly. "It's always been like that. You know that, you watched me grow up here. It's the same in Tortall, really, although I have friends there and they're willing to make allowances, just like you did for me here. I didn't realise how lonely I was until I met Daine. I told you before that she's the only person who has never been afraid of me; she's the only person who's ever completely accepted me. If I lose that, I'm worried about what it will do to me. And..."

His voice cracked a little and he stopped to take a drink of water from the glass on the table.

"And?" Lindhall prompted gently.

"She's in danger, Lindhall, and it's my fault."

"No, it isn't – "

"Yes. It is. There was an incident a few days ago, she went missing for a couple of hours, and I panicked. I overreacted, and I went to Ozorne to find out if he had anything to do with it. I lost my temper completely, I threatened him, and then I tried to hit him."

Lindhall drew in a sharp breath. Numair continued quietly, "So, you see, he knew that the best way to hurt me was to target Daine. If I'd kept my head he would have tried something else and she might not have been involved. She's the most important part of my life, and I've put her in danger, and _I can't help her!"_

Angrily Numair swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. He wasn't crying yet, but he was closer to it than he had been in many years. What use was all his power and his knowledge if he couldn't do anything with it? Lindhall was staring through him with the pensive expression he got when he was thinking hard.

"Numair, my boy, do you think you're alone in feeling this way?" he said at last. "How do you think I felt when you were arrested – both times? The circumstances weren't the same, but I felt just as scared and just as helpless. You already have helped Daine, more than you know. I've spoken with her often enough to see your influence at work; you've taught her to look after herself, as I tried to teach you when you were a boy her age. You've often written to me telling me how much you admire her ability to cope with any situation; thanks to you, she isn't helpless."

All right, _now _he was crying. Turning away, he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. Lindhall patted his shoulder and pushed a glass into his hand; he drank automatically and discovered not water but brandy. Startled, he looked up. "Drink it all. Then we'll talk things through and see if between us we can come up with something."

* * *

The first light of dawn had passed; sunlight was touching the windows and both men were still awake and talking. Numair was feeling a lot calmer; some of that was the brandy at work, but it was a relief nonetheless. A little of the terrible fear that had gripped him had eased, and the pain of the earlier burning had faded to a dull, muted throb; he'd gained a measure of control over the icy rage that still lingered. The conversation wasn't terribly productive, but it was a way to pass the time, if nothing else; he had reluctantly concluded that there was nothing he could do until Daine was awake. There was simply no way to find her that didn't involve wholesale destruction; unless he was willing to fight every mage in the capital, that wasn't an option, although he was keeping it in reserve.

With this in mind, he was currently discussing focus magic with Lindhall; whether or not having a focus would have helped in this situation, he could think of half a dozen previous occasions where a way of finding her quickly would have been very useful. When they got home he would suggest the idea and see what she thought about it. Every so often either himself or Lindhall thought of another idea that might help them pinpoint the cells, either magically or by simple deduction; so far they had come to nothing, but he was hopeful.

Something itched at the back of his mind, a brief flare of magic. Hardly a rare occurrence in a university for mages, after all; he thought nothing of it, familiar though it seemed, until the birdsong in Lindhall's aviary next door turned to shrieks. A dog began barking furiously outside, then howled; the distant animal sounds rose to a roar.

Numair was on his feet before he realised it, leaping to the window, his chair crashing to the floor behind him unnoticed. Lindhall was right behind him as they stared out, scanning the grounds; human cries joined the chaos as every animal in sight turned on the nearest two-legger. The sight was horrifying, but all Numair felt was relief; Daine was alive and awake. Distant amusement set his lips curling into a smile; apparently she wasn't in a very good mood. Unlike him; he wanted to laugh aloud.

The sounds quieted gradually; the few animals in view of the window where they stood scattered and hid. An almost deathly stillness covered the entire city for a moment, before the background hum of daily life slowly began to intrude once more. Numair let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and turned away from the glass. "She's awake," he remarked somewhat unnecessarily.

"How do we find her?"

"I don't know. I can see wild magic, but not through walls. I had planned to try and find an animal who would understand that we were looking for her and be willing to guide us, but they're all in hiding now. Still, at least we can move closer and try to get a rough idea of whereabouts under the palace she's being held."

"No, we can't. You can't leave here, Numair, even with an invisibility spell. It's too risky now; the morning's well under way."

"Lindhall, I can't sit here and not do anything, not now. I can't guarantee that I'm the only one who realises what the animals' behaviour might mean. Ozorne might have guessed that she's awake."

"He knew she would wake up eventually," Lindhall pointed out. "Besides, he'll be busy as well; I believe he was visiting the armies this morning. A war takes a lot of planning."

"Even if that's true, you've never been in those cells. I have. I can't just leave her there."

"You don't have a choice. If you get caught now, the emperor will realise that you fooled him before. He won't risk it happening again; he'll kill her. I know it's hard, but until you can come up with a safe plan you're better off staying here."

Every cell in Numair's body rebelled at the thought, but Lindhall was right. Even so... "I don't think I can make myself stay here doing nothing," he said, but his mind was racing. If Daine was awake, her wild magic could be sensed by any animal. Would he be able to sense her in hawk form? He'd never actively tried, but he had felt her magic for the first time in his bird shape. He knew she could sense him, faintly, if she listened hard; he felt strange to her magic, unsurprisingly since he wasn't a true animal. She couldn't talk to him, though, as far as he knew. Why hadn't they experimented with this before?

"You've thought of something."

"Maybe." He outlined the idea briefly; Lindhall looked blank, but accepted his word. "The problem is what to do if it works. Even if I _can_ find her, what then? I doubt I can pick the locks."

"You're trembling," Lindhall noted.

"I know. I'm on edge still, and I'm tired. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. If you're right about even half the things that might happen in the next day or so, you need your strength. You need to sleep, even if it's just for an hour."

"I already tried. I hurt my throat screaming when I woke up."

"Take something, then."

"Lindhall, are you seriously suggesting that I drug myself? Now?"

"Yes."

Shocked, Numair stared at his old friend. Lindhall's expression was intense. "Numair, listen to me. You're more than just 'on edge'. If I didn't know you, I'd say you were on the verge of a psychological breakdown. I have never seen you act like this, and I've known you since you were twelve. You've really frightened me in the last couple of days. You're right when you say that I've always been a little afraid of what you can do, but I've never had cause to think that you might do it before now. You know as well as I do that most of those who reach the black robe eventually go insane; ordinarily you're more stable than that, and I know you've never been interested in power for its own sake, but this is _not_ an ordinary situation and I am afraid for you."

Numair hesitated. He wanted to deny it, but maybe Lindhall had a point. Since he'd been told that Daine was gone, he'd been behaving very strangely indeed. _The centre cannot hold. _However understandable his reactions might be, if Lindhall said he was dangerous, then he was. "You really think it's that bad?" he asked uncertainly.

"I don't know, but I don't want to take chances. Will you do as I ask, and trust me just once more?"

"Lindhall, I trust you with my life, you know that."

"Then I'll make a dose of a sleeping draught. You'll sleep for about two hours, without dreaming. In the meantime, I'll try and contact those I trust in the palace and see if I can learn what's going on. Try to meditate when you wake up, before you come and find me. It's going to be all right."

It was oddly comforting to have someone else tell him what he needed to do. He didn't argue further, following Lindhall to his room and taking the glass his teacher handed to him. "Two hours, you said?"

"As closely as I can reckon. Rest, my boy. We're going to need your strength later."

"All right." He was yawning as he finished the glass, and his eyes were closed before Lindhall left the room.

* * *

_Lots of action here. I deliberately didn't elaborate on the fight with the guards, or include any interaction with Ozorne, because I'm hoping to write about Arram sometime and there will be very similar incidents in that story when I will go into more detail._

_The whole linking-himself-to-the-simulacrum idea is based on a book I've read, when a woman was fighting a voodoo priestess; the priestess was using a voodoo doll to torture the woman, so the victim puts her arm into a fire and the doll bursts into flames – because the link goes both ways, see? I had no real reason to do it, admittedly, but I liked the idea. And once Daine's awake it makes sense that Numair would need to be injured in some way to actually stay where he was and not go charging off._

_And TP never touches on whether Numair as a hawk is affected by wild magic, really. But Daine can sense him as a bird, because she picked up on the drugs when they met and kept feeling dizzy, and I think he managed to change back when she called him with her magic, and he tells Onua he could feel her magic while he was a bird. He's not a true bird, so I don't think they can talk to each other, but it's a cool idea that someone should play with sometime._

_Poor Numair's feeling very guilty at the moment, bless his heart. Unfortunately, he's not wrong; it really is at least partly his fault that Ozorne went after Daine. I'm not sure he ever completely gets over that. But the relief of knowing that Daine's awake means that he's... well, he's not really any calmer, but he's more inclined to listen to Lindhall. And after the past few days, he really did desperately need some sleep. _

_Next chapter, Numair hears from an unexpected ally (feel free to try and guess who; it's not canon, again) and he learns just how stupidly thoughtless he's been. Because he didn't have enough things to feel guilty about already. Happy 4__th__ of July to all you Americans._

_Now for the IMPORTANT NOTE: Voting has opened in the Knighthood of Ficship competition. Teacher and Power have both been nominated in the Tortall Multi-chapter category. I don't know if it will let me post the link: it's at _fanfiction dot net /topic/54838/16385347/1/ _or if that hasn't worked then there's a link to the forum on KrisEleven's profile. I would love it if you could all spare the time to vote. Just being nominated was unbelievable enough, but I'd love to see where my stories are placed. Thank you._

_**Loten.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_This is going to be a shorter chapter, I'm afraid; once the real action starts there's nowhere to split it, so that will all be in the next update. This instalment contains some much-needed reassurance for our hero that he's not completely on his own, and some information that allows him to work out most of what's happening – plus some more angst.

* * *

_

–_Finally. I've been trying to talk to you for days, mage._– The growling voice belonged to the badger god. This was going to be another very strange conversation, he could tell.

"I wasn't stopping you. I didn't think I could."

–_If I were in the mortal realms, it would have been easy,_– the badger grumbled. –_For a variety of reasons, I cannot leave the divine realms at this time._–

"The Hag won't let you?"Numair asked.

The badger sneezed. Numair remembered Daine telling him once that she was pretty sure that was the animal god's way of laughing. –_You worked it out after all. I thought you might. She expressly forbade me to interfere. I've been trying to contact Daine; when she stopped me, I tried to get through to you, but from a different realm it is very difficult. I have no tie to you save through Daine._–

"I'm not sure what good it's going to do me, knowing what's happening. I can't exactly do anything to help," Numair said gloomily. "Wait – can you at least tell me that Daine's all right?"

–_Of course she is,_– the god said offhandedly. –_She knows how to take care of herself, as you well know. Listen to your friend when he tells you things._–The badger hesitated. –_Tread carefully, mage,_– he said finally, growling softly in what sounded like frustration, obviously wanting to say something else. –_Knowing who's involved won't prepare you for what's going to happen._–

"Are you the reason I keep dreaming that someone's trying to tell me something?" Numair asked.

The animal god sneezed again. _–Mostly._–

"Mostly?"

–_Part of it was your own subconscious._–

Numair recognised that the badger didn't intend to elaborate and sighed, wondering what exactly that meant. His subconscious was going to have to wait, anyway. There were more important things happening right now that had priority. The badger sounded amused as he agreed.

"Do you have any advice on what I do now?"

–_I can't say much._–

"Anything would be more than I know now."

–_Don't kill Ozorne._–

"I worked that one out myself," Numair muttered. It had taken hours before he'd regained full use of his fingers.

–_Yes, well, it was necessary, so I'm told._– The badger didn't sound any happier about the situation than Numair felt. –_Incidentally, you're right that it was Herself who stopped you killing him, but I'm the one who stopped you screaming. Daine's going to need you alive._–

Numair processed this. "Thank you," he answered sarcastically after a moment; the badger sneezed again in reply, and he had to stop himself making a nasty comment about allergies. Instead he thought about things for a while, and finally asked, "Am I supposed to do anything specific here? I know the Graveyard Hag is using Daine to stop Ozorne's rule for some reason, but do I have some role in this? I don't really want to just stand and watch," he added. "I'm getting tired of that."

The animal god was clearly amused. –_Do you see yourself as hero material, mage?_–

"Bright Mithros, no," he answered, almost laughing himself at the idea. "I just wondered if I was supposed to be here or if it was just my own stupidity after all."

–_You wanted to protect her. That isn't stupid. And you have no part in the Graveyard Hag's plans, but that doesn't mean there's no role for you to play. The future is very uncertain; none of us know what's going to happen._–

Numair mulled this over for a while. "I don't suppose you'd tell me who Daine's father is?" he asked next. "She keeps telling me that she wants to ask you, but _somehow _she always forgets," he added sarcastically. His tone earned him another amused sneeze.

–_No. That isn't my secret to share. She'll find out eventually._–

"But she is the daughter of a god."

–_Perhaps._–

Somehow, he doubted the badger would share much else on the subject. Whilst Numair had a lot of questions on a variety of topics, he had no idea how long he'd been asleep or when the drugs Lindhall had given him would wear off; best to prioritise. He tried to think of what he really needed to know that the badger might be permitted to tell him, then decided that was the wrong way to go about it. Daine's guardian seemed to be on his side for the moment, so he'd take advantage while it lasted. "What do I need to know?"

The badger made a vague sound of approval. –_Clever. Most of what you 'need to know' I can't tell you, but you'll be fine without prior knowledge. Stop doubting yourself, for a start; you've done more than you realise to help my kit. And this would have happened one way or another no matter what you tried to do. Follow your instincts, mage; just be yourself. It's the best advice I can give you. Don't give in to your emotions. And don't let Daine kill Ozorne, either._–

"What?" he asked, startled. Since when had that been an option? Although certainly Daine would be angry enough with the emperor by now.

–_The future is divided. You know of the paths of possibility?_–

"Yes."

–_Down several paths, Daine kills Ozorne. If that happens, it must not be now. That will end in disaster for everyone. It may happen in the future, but for her sake and that of more than you know it _must not _happen in Carthak. You'll understand more when you see her._–

He was glad to hear that last part, since at the moment he didn't understand at all. "If you say so." Trying to think of everything else that had happened here, he finally demanded in exasperation, "Why is all this happening?"

–_Now you sound like my kit,_– the badger told him. –_I can't tell you, because I don't know. There's more to this than merely punishing Ozorne and reminding the mortal realms to respect the gods, but I don't think anyone knows the significance yet. Even the greater gods cannot see the future for certain._–

That was typical, but really Numair hadn't expected an answer. He thought about Ozorne some more; if neither he nor Daine were permitted to kill the emperor, would someone else do so? Or... _wait. _He remembered the feather Rikash had given as a gift, recalled the Stormwing's words.

–_No more questions,_– the badger told him quietly. –_I have said more than I should already, but I would not have you or Daine face this with no warning at all._–

"Thank you," Numair said sincerely. "For both of us."

–_You're a better man than you think,_– the animal god told him unexpectedly. –_I'll see you again. Look after my kit, and yourself._–

"Sentiment, badger?" he asked wryly. "I didn't know you cared."

–_Oh, hush,_– the badger growled. –_It's for her sake, not yours._– If Numair didn't know better, he would have said that Daine's guardian was embarrassed. The god's voice was fainter now. –_One last thing: remember, it was prophesied that hyenas would lead Ozorne's doom to him. It's time. Good hunting._–

* * *

Numair opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, blinking as he tried to orient himself. After a few moments he recognised Lindhall's room and remembered the events of the last few hours; stretching, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, taking stock. He ached all over still and the drugs had left a foul taste in his mouth, but it was an improvement. And Lindhall had been right, he had needed the rest. Crossing to the door, he paused when he heard voices, and listened intently; his friend was talking to Kaddar. Then he heard Daine mentioned and opened the door without thinking.

The prince looked worried when Numair entered, but not surprised, from which he deduced that Lindhall had filled him in on everything that had happened. Just as well, really; that might have been a little difficult to explain afterwards. "You've seen Daine?" he demanded without wasting time on niceties.

"Numair, how do you feel?" Lindhall asked cautiously.

He waved a hand impatiently. "I'm fine. Your Highness, where is Daine?"

"I don't know," Kaddar replied uneasily. "I don't know how she escaped the cells, but she did. The Banjiku took me to her a couple of hours ago and we talked briefly."

"Is she all right?" he asked urgently.

Kaddar hesitated. "She's not hurt," he said evasively, glancing nervously at Lindhall before looking back at Numair. "Master Salmalín, at the time I... I didn't know about your simulacrum... I told Daine what I thought was the truth..."

Numair glanced at Lindhall, who was looking worried. Taking a deep breath, he sat down. "Tell me," he said heavily.

The imperial heir also breathed deeply, then began talking rapidly with the air of someone trying to get the worst over with quickly. "My uncle drugged her with dreamrose. She said she had dreamed that you were still in the city. I had to tell her of your execution, and she... didn't take it well. I've never seen anyone react quite like that. It... frightened me."

Lindhall interjected before Numair could answer. "Numair... you _did _tell her your plan?"

"Of course I did!" he replied defensively, before hesitating. Now he thought about it, he couldn't remember the conversation. "At least... I think so," he added less certainly. He'd definitely intended to... _Oh, gods. I'm so sorry, Daine. _"I don't know," he admitted in a small voice. "I don't think I did."

"I don't think you did either," Kaddar agreed shakily. "Nobody's that good an actor."

"Why, what happened?" Numair asked quickly.

"Nothing, really. That was the scary part. When I told her... it was like she was frozen. She didn't move, or say anything, or even blink. And the Banjiku's animals wouldn't go near her. Then... She told me to get everyone I cared about clear of the palace before sunset, and warned Tano to get the slaves and my uncle's birds out. I don't... What can she do?"

Numair thought about this. What _could _Daine do? Almost anything, if she really put her mind to it. He considered what he would do if the situation had been reversed – indeed, what he almost _had _done – and shivered; but Daine's magic wasn't destructive. _But the Graveyard Hag's magic could be. _He went cold as he considered just what could happen, and abruptly remembered Lindhall mentioning the Hall of Bones. "Did you do as she asked?"

"I... Yes. But is it really necessary? I mean..."

"I think so," Numair answered distantly. "I don't know for certain what's going to happen, but I know what I would do in her place." He stared pensively at the wall for a moment, guilt squirming through him. He'd done it again, managed to hurt her simply by not thinking. _Well done, Numair. Even after all these years, you're still the idiot Arram Draper always was. _Taking a breath, he shook the mood off; time to blame himself later, if they all survived. "How long until sunset?"

"An hour, maybe less."

He looked accusingly at Lindhall. "You said I'd sleep for two hours." Most of the day had gone.

"I measured the dose extremely carefully," Lindhall replied indignantly, before softening a little. "You needed the rest more than you realised, I think."

"All right." Numair stood and moved to the window.

"Master Salmalín?" Kaddar asked uncertainly. "What will you do now?"

"I'm going to have a drink, first. My mouth feels like something died in it. Then I'm going to cross the river to the palace and try to find Daine."

Lindhall and Kaddar spoke at the same moment. "You'll be caught. The emperor..."

"I don't think it's going to matter any more," Numair answered quietly. He repeated the Old Thak words spoken by Zernou's statue what seemed a lifetime ago: "_The gods are angry." _They both looked ill.

* * *

_I did say this was a short one. I'm sorry about that, but there's nowhere to split the next part up. To compensate, I'm updating a day earlier than I had planned to._

_Anyway, look, it's the badger again! Numair needed a few more hints to help him finish putting everything together. He's worked it all out now. The thought process is pretty simple; he's reacted very badly to all this. If he heard Daine had died, he'd have lost it and started killing things. Daine's fairly similar to him in her view of her friends, she's also a very loyal and fierce person, so she's going to react very badly too. And she has scary divine magic that can resurrect the dead, so she's probably going to do that. And Lindhall was talking about the Hall of Bones earlier; besides, Daine's already resurrected a dinosaur, when she touched Bonedancer._

_He's also just realised that actually he forgot to tell Daine he was planning to fake his own death. He deliberately didn't tell anyone else, but he really did mean to tell her, and until this point he thought he already had. Oops. Luckily for him, though, everything's moving so fast that he doesn't really have time to feel too guilty about it yet._

_So now our hero knows what's about to happen, and Lindhall's lost the power to keep him sitting still and behaving himself. This means that next chapter he's going to charge off bravely into the midst of the action. He meets another ally, too, and learns just how accurate his predictions were. Then everything really starts getting strange._

_**Loten.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_This is another one of those chapters that I know you've all been desperately looking forward to from the start, which puts me under a lot of pressure to get it right. I've rewritten parts of this so many times... I hope it worked.

* * *

_

The sun was already setting when the three men left the university. Numair led the way simply by virtue of having the longest legs; both Kaddar and Lindhall were over six feet, but even they were struggling to keep up with him at the moment. The streets were deserted; the air was heavy and oppressive with the coming storm.

"Where will you start looking?" Lindhall asked, panting a little.

"The menagerie."

"Why?" Kaddar asked, sounding breathless but puzzled, Lindhall echoing him.

He considered a scathing comment and held his tongue; his companions had only known Daine a few days, or they wouldn't have needed to ask. "Because she's not acting as out of character as you think. She asked Tano to rescue Ozorne's birds. She'll want to make sure the captive animals aren't going to be harmed by whatever she's planning."

"You're certain?"

"I know her," he replied simply. Besides, the badger had told him that the hyenas would be involved somehow. They were almost at the river now; he said nothing further, nervous energy lengthening his stride as he led them by the swiftest routes for the palace. Daine wasn't acting strangely at all, really, once you stopped and thought about it. She'd lost her mother and her grandfather when she was thirteen, the only family she'd had; since then Numair had come to take their place as much as that was possible, as she had replaced his own family after his exile. _Pack, _he had told Lindhall, and it was true. So, faced with that loss, her reaction – whatever it might entail – was perfectly understandable. He owed her a _very _big apology for this. _I'll add it to the list,_ he told himself sourly; he'd done a lot of things recently that he needed to apologise for.

The palace was oddly silent as well, but with the slaves and sundry other folk missing and the earlier animal attacks that wasn't really surprising. Numair was more pleased than otherwise; he wasn't in the mood to confront the imperial guard again, and there wasn't time. Strange magic was flickering across his senses, distracting him. He could smell the storm in the air now; something big was happening.

Distantly, something crashed to the ground, making all three of them jump. Keeping to the grounds, avoiding the buildings, Numair jogged towards the menagerie; more faint crashes could be heard in the distance, and other noises. He ignored them, focusing on where he was going to the exclusion of all else.

* * *

The menagerie was in chaos when they arrived. Animals were scrambling away in all directions, every cage standing open – no, smashed open – and every pit breached by a fallen tree. Kaddar and Lindhall both gasped in astonishment; even Numair reflexively made the Sign against evil when they saw the first skeletal dinosaur, although he had suspected this would happen. Knowing something and seeing it were two very different things; focused though he was on finding Daine, the dinosaurs were certainly eye-catching, and he slowed to a halt, staring.

There was something profoundly disturbing about the skeletons. He'd studied most of those bones over the years when he had been a student here; they were millions of years old. It took considerable effort to adjust his mind to the sight of them moving away from the menagerie and back towards the palace. _Goddess, Daine, what have you done now? Just when I thought you couldn't surprise me any more... _His lips twitched; every time he thought that, she proved him wrong.

Raucous laughter startled them. Looking around, Numair saw Rikash; the blond Stormwing was perched on the roof of the still-intact immortal's menagerie. "Hello, mage!" he called in greeting. "Not dead after all? I think I'm glad. Wouldn't want you to miss the fun."

"Yes, that would be a terrible shame," Numair muttered, unable to stop himself smiling; there _was _something ludicrously funny about all this, really. "I don't suppose you've seen Daine while you were enjoying the view?"

The Stormwing cackled. "Oh, your girl's been _very _busy tonight. Take a look." He raised a glittering metal wing and pointed towards the palace; Numair turned to look and swore when he saw the flames rising over the roof. How had he missed that? Admittedly he had other things on his mind, but even so.

"What..." Kaddar began.

Rikash laughed again. "That's the Astronomer's Tower you can see," he informed them with malicious glee. "The west wing's burning as well. She must like you, mage," he told Numair, leering. He flushed a little, but found himself grinning anyway, the whole thing seeming slightly surreal now.

"Where is she?" he asked, trying to inject a note of warning into his voice; he didn't have time for this. The Stormwing snickered at his tone.

"Hunting Ozorne, of course. Oh, don't look so worried. You might as well stay here and enjoy the fun; his Imperial Majesty will have to come here eventually. I have it on _excellent _authority."

"Ah."

"Numair?" Lindhall questioned softly behind him. He found himself grinning recklessly at his old friend, adrenaline, stress and lack of sleep combining to leave him feeling almost drunk.

"It's all falling apart," he replied calmly. "Daine's raised every skeleton from the Hall of Bones to bring the palace down. Sorry, Kaddar," he told the prince. "I think she got a little carried away." He shrugged and looked around. "This seems as good a place to wait as any. Ozorne will arrive soon, and Daine."

"How do you know?" Lindhall demanded, sounding utterly exasperated; it was a tone Numair was accustomed to hearing from his friends regularly. Kaddar simply looked numb with shock, turning to stare at the palace burning down. "This creature's 'authority'? Numair, what's going on?"

"You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied, starting to laugh as he too turned to see the wreckage surrounding them, watching the dinosaurs heading back to the palace. This whole thing was utterly ridiculous. Alanna and the others were never going to believe him. "Trust me just a little longer. I'm not insane – well, no more so than usual," he amended, smiling. "For now, all we can do is wait."

_Serves me right. _All his frantic planning and desperate attempts to do something, anything, and yet here he was waiting again. Leaving Lindhall and Kaddar staring at the burning palace, he wandered over to the immortal's menagerie, glancing through the gates to locate the sleeping Kitten. The dragon seemed all right.

"The spells on this place are tied to Ozorne, I assume?" he asked, looking up at Rikash. The Stormwing nodded.

"The dinosaurs seemed quite annoyed when they couldn't break in. As far as I could tell, anyway. It's not easy to tell what a skeleton's thinking." The immortal shifted position, looking down thoughtfully at him. "You know who's behind all this?"

He nodded, not stupid enough to try and say it out loud. "I do. How long have you known?"

Rikash shrugged carelessly. "A while. I knew she was planning something here to teach the Emperor Mage some manners, but I didn't get involved until you told me who was being held here." The Stormwing turned his head and looked into the courtyard behind him; Numair followed his gaze and saw the two captive Stormwings looking back at him.

"Barzha and Hebakh?" he queried. "Do you know them?"

"Yes. Barzha is the true queen of my flock. Jokhun lied to us." Rikash smiled nastily. "He's going to regret that."

"No doubt," Numair murmured. Looking back at the pair in their cage, he nodded politely to them. Movement caught his eye from Kitten's cage, and he blinked. "Is that Zek?" The marmoset settled more closely against the sleeping dragon's neck.

Rikash cleared his throat, looking slightly sheepish. "Your girl asked me to keep him safe," the immortal admitted. "I thought the dragon's cage the safest place, for now."

Numair snickered, well able to imagine Daine making such a request of the Stormwing. "Your ancestors weren't the only sentimental ones, Rikash Moonsword," he told the immortal mockingly. Rikash actually flushed a little, but grinned in response, apparently enjoying the argument. After a moment, Numair's brain caught up with his sarcasm reflex, and he blinked. "When did you see Daine?"

"A while ago now, organising her army. Ozorne didn't seem inclined to stay in his rooms and welcome them inside; she enlisted some passing friends and set out after him."

"'Friends'?" Numair questioned. Rikash laughed.

"I don't want to spoil the surprise. You'll see, soon enough."

"That's not all I'll see, is it?" Numair asked shrewdly. "Ozorne still has your present."

The Stormwing gave him a startled look. "You worked that out, as well? I'm impressed, stork-man." Numair choked at the nickname; _how_ had Rikash learned _that_? It had taken Daine almost a year to admit what every animal she met now called him. He still hadn't entirely forgiven Cloud; the pony had a cruel sense of humour at times.

Shaking it off – with some difficulty – he shrugged as casually as possible. "Your message wasn't exactly subtle. Flying on wings of steel beyond the Black God's reach?"

"The rules dictate that I had to give him fair warning," Rikash replied sourly, then laughed again. "Nobody else worked it out, though. Well done. I'll remember not to underestimate you in future, should we meet again."

"Thank you," he answered in honest surprise at the compliment, then he laughed. "This may be the strangest evening of my entire life."

The Stormwing laughed with him. "Life would be terribly dull if every day was the same. And don't tell me you're not looking forward to seeing Ozorne fall."

Numair hesitated, then felt a fierce grin cross his face; part of him had been waiting for this for years. "A part of me is," he admitted. "I'm sorry I won't be able to take him down myself, though. I've been warned off. And I was told not to let Daine kill him, either. Explaining that to her should be interesting." He made a face. "Especially since she thinks I'm dead."

Rikash frowned. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm not sure an explanation will be necessary – or useful," he offered. "I don't think she's in any shape to listen to reason."

Numair missed the hidden meaning this time. "Hardly surprising, I suppose," he sighed, looking around. Lindhall and Kaddar stood nearby, having listened to most of this conversation in blank incomprehension, obviously wondering just why Numair – having all but run across the breadth of the city to get here – was now spending time chatting with a Stormwing.

Rikash cocked his head, listening, then grinned. "Showtime!" the Stormwing crowed, taking to the air with a rattle of metallic feathers. "Find a place with a good view, Longshanks. No doubt we'll see one another again. I can't seem to get away from you and your girl."

Smiling wryly at this parting shot – _Longshanks isn't much better than stork-man, really. And Daine's not my girl – _Numair walked back to where the other two men waited. "Listen; they're coming. We'd better get out of sight; this fight isn't for us."

"I don't hear anything," Kaddar said warily, even as the three of them moved out of sight behind an empty cage. After a moment the faint sound Numair had heard came again; a high-pitched, almost sobbing cry that resembled laughter. The prince blanched. "Is that – "

"The hunting call of the spotted hyena," Lindhall confirmed. Kaddar swallowed; the three men stood in silence, waiting.

* * *

To Numair's eyes, a cloud of magic was walking towards them. Blinking, he focused, and saw Kaddar's features, and laughed softly. "I would have thought he would be better at illusions after all this time," he whispered. The laughing cries sounded closer.

"He has studied very little magic since taking the throne, as far as I know," Lindhall answered equally softly. "I suppose he felt it was unnecessary."

The real Kaddar shivered. "This is strange."

Numair struggled not to laugh. "Try watching your own execution sometime."

The prince shuddered. "I'd prefer not to, thank you."

The three of them fell silent and watched the illusory Kaddar limp towards the immortal's menagerie, glancing back over his shoulder as the hyenas called again, closer this time. The gates swung open at his touch, and he headed for the griffin's cage as four animals trotted into view with the distinctive rocking gait of hunting hyenas. Numair understood the badger's warning now. Cursing softly, he hastily reviewed spells, thinking of ways to stop an enraged hyena from killing someone she really, really wanted to kill.

"Four?" Kaddar whispered, sounding confused. "There were only three hyenas in the menagerie."

"The one in front is Daine," Numair answered absently.

"How do you know?"

"I can see wild magic," he replied; it was easier than trying to explain. It was true, but that wasn't how he knew which hyena was Daine. He could have worked it out that way, but since she'd first learned to shapeshift he'd learned to recognise her almost instantly. Mostly in self defence; the journey back from Dunlath had been _very_ interesting. He'd never known what animal he might see when he turned around. She had claimed with a straight face that she needed to practice, but it hadn't fooled him. Whatever shape she took, there was something about the eyes that marked her, a certain strength and spirit that he associated with her, and he saw it in the eyes of the closest hyena now.

_Besides, _he told himself dryly, _she wouldn't let anyone else take the lead. _It was good to see her alive and well, even if she had fur and four legs at the moment; he knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't help it. He'd been so scared. She snarled, and the illusory Kaddar spun round, the image shattering to show Ozorne looking absolutely terrible. Numair smiled in vengeful satisfaction, noting that the emperor was bleeding and looked terrified. _Serves you right. _

The hyena he had identified as Daine sprang at Ozorne, crying out as she hit the shield surrounding the emperor and dropping to her paws with a snarl; two of the other hyenas imitated her. Daine cocked her head, eyes narrowing, and Numair knew she'd seen the same thing he had; Ozorne's shield was weakening. Three of the animals began circling, yipping, laughing their eerie cry; Daine remained standing in front of Ozorne, her teeth bared and her eyes blazing fury. Emerald fire began gathering slowly around the emperor's hands.

Numair saw the strange white-hot flicker to the magic and drew in a breath of sudden horror. He knew what that meant. _No. You damned fool. _Daine crouched slightly, snarling, and he remembered the badger's warning; not that he'd needed it. He had no idea what it would do to Daine's sanity to kill someone in animal form, and he had no desire to find out. More than that, though, he recognised the spell Ozorne was trying to use and he would not, could not let it be cast. Ozorne opened his mouth to say the words.

"No!" Numair heard his own voice with some surprise, since he hadn't intended to say anything. Lifting a hand, he drew on his own Gift in the strongest shield he could form, surrounding his old enemy with sparkling black fire. Even at full strength, the Emperor Mage wasn't strong enough to break a shield created by a black robe, and right now Ozorne looked horribly weak.

Daine snarled viciously in thwarted rage and leaped at the barrier, the snarl changing tone as it stung her nose. He'd known she would try to break it; she clearly wasn't thinking straight at the moment and just as clearly hadn't recognised his Gift or his voice. Fortunately, it was easier to make a strong shield with no hidden extras; it wouldn't hurt her. For the moment, he could hold Ozorne and prevent Daine or one of her friends ripping the emperor's throat out – although he wasn't sure he especially wanted to.

Surprisingly, it was Kaddar who stepped forward. "You'll have to choose, Uncle," the prince said raggedly. Daine's attention didn't waver by so much as a hair; she wasn't listening to anyone. That was bad. "Abdication and imprisonment – or the hyenas. You must give in. Your Gift is almost used up. We can see you're taking it from your own life force now." Kaddar had recognised the strange quality of the magic as well, it seemed. Numair shivered; only once before had he been so drained that he'd been drawing on his own life force, before he'd met Daine. He never wanted to face that again. It had been a terrifying experience; every time he used any power at all, he'd been able to feel himself dying.

Ozorne's Gift had flickered and died, after one abortive attempt to break the barrier that Numair had barely even felt. The emperor was swaying, his skin a ghastly colour. "Abdi – Never!"

"Then it must be the hyenas, Uncle, just as the Graveyard Hag promised," Kaddar said quietly.

"Give him to the animals!" a new voice cried; the female Stormwing, Barzha. Numair glared at her from his place of concealment. _You're not helping. _The immortal continued savagely, "They have worked hard for his flesh – let them have it! Let them feast, so _we _can sup on his fear!"

Numair could sympathise with that. Seeing his old friend, old enemy, had resurrected some of that deadly cold rage he had felt earlier. He would like almost nothing more than to watch Ozorne panic and beg for his life before the hyenas tore him apart, but more important than revenge was Daine's safety. He would not let her take part in what was essentially murder; it would have broken something valuable in her. He watched her now, blind to all else that moved; she let out that eerie laughing cry and paced slowly right up to his shield, baring her teeth at Ozorne.

"Promises, is it?" Ozorne said suddenly, his eyes gleaming insanely. "Well, I have a promise in reserve!" He began fumbling with his hair, and Numair drew in a breath, hearing Rikash echo it somewhere above him. Barzha and Hebakh were both pressed close to the bars of their cage, watching with a frightening intensity, and for a long moment nothing moved or made a sound. Numair had never been any good at prescience, but he could feel the shape of the future now unfurling around them and it made him shiver.

"See!" Ozorne cried hoarsely; Daine's head snapped around from where she had been watching the Stormwings. Hyena faces weren't easy to read, but he could still see a faint puzzlement cut through the fury in the dark amber-black eyes. Ozorne held up the metal feather, grinning dementedly, obviously having no idea what was about to happen. "I have _this _promise!" He thrust the feather into his arm; the jaws of the trap snapped closed with a terrible finality.

* * *

Numair's shield broke, and he swayed with the impact. Daine's snarl rose higher; her leap had been instinctive, and she'd fallen through the last traces of his barrier to hit Ozorne. Rolling, the hyena scrambled to her paws and backed away, every hair on end, and for a moment there was total silence as everyone – humans, immortals and hyenas – stared at the Stormwing that Ozorne had become. Above him, distantly, Numair heard Rikash hiss.

Chimes filled the air. One by one, the cages in the immortal's menagerie began to disintegrate. Numair hastily reviewed what power he had left and turned to Lindhall, still standing beside him and watching everything silently; he touched his old friend's arm and nodded to the menagerie even as the griffin and the hurroks took off into the night. Lindhall started, then took a breath, and his fog-grey Gift rolled out to surround the spidrens, Coldfangs and the predatory unicorns and centaurs; the other wingless immortals fled. Kitten stirred and sat up, staring around with a soft chirp that Numair recognised as confusion; the dragon stayed where she was, slit-pupilled blue eyes moving constantly.

A rattle of steel feathers drew Numair's eyes back to Barzha and Hebakh. "Humans, stay out of this," the Stormwing queen commanded – and it _was _a command. Rikash descended lightly to stand behind them; oddly, Numair was reminded of Alanna standing behind Jonathan and Thayet. The blond Stormwing looked in his direction and winked, grinning with cheerful malice as Barzha spoke again. "Now he is in _our _form, he must answer to Stormwing justice!"

The horror on Ozorne's face scarred over several old wounds in Numair's soul. For once, the emperor would finally have to face the consequences of something he'd done. "No!" he gasped, still apparently determined to deny anything that he didn't like. "I am the Emperor Mage, lord of Carthak!"

_Not any more. _Numair found himself struggling not to laugh, feeling a little hysterical again.

"No immortal may hold a mortal throne," Hebakh said, rocking back and forth. The male Stormwing's voice was coolly contemptuous. "Wake up, _Emperor Mage! _Do you understand _now _the trap that was laid for you?"

"No immortal may rule over humans or use human magic," Rikash now continued, looking very pleased with himself – as well he might, Numair supposed. The now-familiar mockery coloured his voice, contrasting with the disdain showed by the royal pair. "Go ahead – try it."

To Numair's amused disbelief, Ozorne did so. Apparently the emperor – _former _emperor – was taking a while to adjust to the change in his circumstances. A dull boom sounded somewhere nearby, and the new Stormwing was thrown across the empty courtyard to smash into the rear wall, where he lay half-stunned and trying to stand. Numair walked forward to stand in the gateway behind Daine. _Say what you like about me, but I know how to make an entrance._

"You forgot our earliest lessons, Ozorne," he said quietly. Now it came to it, his anger had gone, all the years of festering memories simply no longer there. He looked dispassionately at the one-time Emperor Mage; in front of him, one of Daine's ears twitched, but she remained staring at the Stormwing. "Once you take immortal shape, you can never change back." Ozorne looked up and met Numair's eyes, and he watched the message crash home. Now, Ozorne finally understood that he had been fooled, trapped, manipulated and overthrown, failing to escape the gods, failing to kill his old enemy, failing to retain his power. He had _lost. _

"We are free!" Barzha cried in savage triumph, breaking the spell and leaving Numair to quietly savour the healing of old wounds; an oddly peaceful feeling considering what was happening around him. "First I take payment from that motherless worm Jokhun and then I will tend to _you, _Ozorne!" the Stormwing queen continued, leaping skywards with no more farewell than that. Hebakh followed her silently.

Ozorne screamed, a terrible sound of fury and loss, and began to thrash as he tried to stand. "I have magic!" he protested shakily; there was nothing resembling sanity left in his eyes, but then again, there hadn't been for a long time. For years he'd been more monster than man; now at last he looked the part. "I – I have Stormwing magic!" he added defiantly.

"Of course you do, sweetheart," Rikash said pleasantly, taking a step forward. "Do you know how to use it?" Gold-edged red fire flashed down to smash into the dirt immediately in front of Ozorne, startling him so badly he almost fell over again. Numair almost wanted to laugh simply because it was so completely like Rikash; he let the blond Stormwing do the mocking and taunting for both of them. He had no heart for it any more.

Ozorne stood gaping, sweat literally dripping from him, his mouth working as he tried to speak. "You'll get the hang of it in a few days or so," Rikash told him in a poisonously sweet voice of sympathy. "If you live that long, of course. There is a reason the former King Jokhun didn't want to fight Barzha Razorwing on her terms." A second bolt of Stormwing magic shattered the flagstones behind Ozorne, drawing a savage obscenity from him.

Even Ozorne's insane mind finally acknowledged that he was overmatched. The creature that had once been the Emperor Mage of the Carthaki Empire leaped into the air, flailing his new wings frantically and struggling to achieve a semblance of flight. Numair watched dispassionately, vaguely surprised to feel nothing at all. Rikash heaved an exaggerated sigh.

"I must go after him. I wouldn't like him to lose interest, not when it took so much work to get him into the proper claws. Barzha will want him eventually, after all." The Stormwing looked at the hyenas. "Is one of you Daine?"

She trotted to the edge of the raised platform that had once held the immortals, looking up at him. Rikash looked down at her; the Stormwing was smiling, with only a faint trace of mockery. "If it counts for anything – though I'm not sure that it does – you have my gratitude." He glanced up at Numair for a second, then looked back at the hyena. "And things aren't as bad as you think. You might look around." He crouched and launched himself upwards a great deal more smoothly than any of the others had managed. "Ozorne, my precious, where are you?" he called, his voice fading as he too vanished into the darkness.

Numair winced, unsure whether Rikash had been trying to help or not. Daine looked calmer now, but he didn't know how she would take seeing him when she believed he had been executed trying to get to her. He remained where he was, standing in the gateway; Kaddar was over by the empty griffin cage, looking like he was in shock, while Lindhall kept control of the remaining immortals.

The hyena cocked her head, glancing at the other three in obvious puzzlement, and then turned around. Her eyes skipped over Lindhall and Kaddar to focus on Numair, and went wide; a moment later the shimmer of her magic spilled over her and she shifted to her own form, half-collapsing, her face pale. "No." He only just heard her faint whisper. "Gods, this is too horrible. Don't do this to me."

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat – _I'm so, so sorry – _he walked forward as the hyenas closed in around her, hiding the fact that as usual she had lost her clothes when she shifted. "I'm real, sweetling," he told her softly, halting a little way away from her. "It truly is me."

"Kaddar and Varice saw them kill you," she said hoarsely, the pain in her voice slicing through him. "You're a – a ghost, or a – puppet. A simu-thing."

He lifted a hand sparkling with black fire. "Ozorne couldn't attach magic to a simulacrum, remember?" He let the magic slide away from him once more, registering just how tired he was. He'd never meant to hurt her.

She swallowed. "Very well, then – you're one of _Numair's _simal – " Her voice cracked when she said his name, and he thought his heart would break.

"Simulacra," he corrected her automatically before he could stop himself. Blinking away the distant threat of tears, he looked into her eyes, speaking softly. "Magelet, remember how we met? I was a shape-shifted hawk. You nursed me until Alanna helped me regain my true form. Last year, in the courtyard of Dunlath castle, I changed Tristan Staghorn into an apple tree with a word of power." That, too, had been a reckless decision made because she was in danger. He couldn't help it; she meant everything to him, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her. Absently removing his cloak, he tossed the cloth into the air, a whisper of his Gift carrying it to her.

Automatically Daine caught it, standing and wrapping it around herself, staring at him desperately. Stepping through the hyenas, she lifted a hand hesitantly, then recoiled and turned to stare towards the dragon who was still watching them. "Kitten? Is it really him?"

_Clever girl. _No mortal illusion would fool a dragon. Numair looked briefly at the young immortal, who nodded and made a happy sound that he suspected was his nickname in dragon; certainly it was how she usually greeted him. He turned back to Daine and held out his hand to her.

She hesitated a moment longer, then reached out towards him and closed her hand over his. Grasping her fingers, he pulled her towards him and lifted her clear of the ground, hugging her roughly, closing his eyes and struggling for control as she clung to him; they'd so nearly lost each other. It proved too much; she started crying, her face buried in his neck, and he wasn't that far from tears himself.

"I'm so sorry, sweet," he whispered, barely audible. "I never meant for you to go through this. I don't know why you put up with me, I really don't. I don't deserve you." He held her for a while longer, until her tears cooled against his skin and her breathing steadied, before reluctantly letting her go and digging a handkerchief out of his pocket. He'd completely forgotten that there was anyone else there.

She dried her eyes and blew her nose, taking a deep breath and looking up at him. "Where have you been?" she asked hoarsely.

"At the university. Once the emperor's men arrested my simulacrum, I had to play least-in-sight for a day or two." And it had almost driven him insane. No need to go into more detail about those few days, though, not now.

"But – they knew – Kaddar and Varice were _sure_ it was you."

"It was a very good simulacrum, my dear. I worked on it for weeks in secret and had it shipped to Lindhall from Tyra. I didn't quite trust Ozorne's good intentions, I'm afraid."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Numair sighed and smiled guiltily down at her. "I have no idea. I think I forgot," he confessed.

"Oh." Astonishingly, she almost smiled, her eyes flickering; she knew him well enough that he didn't need to give any further explanation. He really didn't deserve her as his friend. She frowned slightly. "How'd you find out? About – all _this, _then?"

"Kaddar made it across the river." He couldn't quite hold back the grin that crept across his face. "We have enjoyed a most informative evening," he added solemnly, fighting back laughter. "Are you aware that the entire west wing and Astronomer's Tower are burning?" he asked in his best stern-teacher voice.

Daine looked at the ground, scuffing the dirt with her foot. "I thought they'd killed you. I lost my temper."

He almost laughed aloud, smiling as she looked back up at him. "Magelet, that is the greatest understatement I have heard in my life," he told her gently, understanding perfectly. He would have done exactly the same in her place, and in fact almost had.

"She had help," a female voice said, making him jump; he'd completely forgotten that there was anyone else there. Looking up, he found himself face to face with a goddess, the Graveyard Hag herself. "She couldn't have done it without me." The badger stood with her.

"That's true enough," Daine snapped, sounding suddenly angry; her tone made him blink. "But if you'd done what you're supposed to, none of this would've been necessary." Numair slowly registered that his fifteen year old student and friend was actually _scolding _one of the Great Gods; he was too tired to cope with the sheer unreality of the situation, his mind going numb. It would be days before he sorted out just what he was thinking and feeling at the moment.

"And _I _told _you, _we have rules," the goddess snapped in reply, absently removing the last of the immortals from the menagerie with casual disregard for Lindhall's Gift that had been holding them.

"Interesting company you keep these days," Numair told the badger dryly, recalling his earlier conversation with the animal god.

–_If I'd had a choice, I would have given up the experience,_–the badger grumbled in reply, looking up at him before turning to Daine. –_You did very well, kit._–

She smiled at her guardian. "Thank you, Badger. Coming from you, it means a lot."

The Graveyard Hag walked over to them. "Well, dearie, it's been fun, but you have something of mine, and I want it back."

Numair put his arm around Daine's shoulders. "She doesn't have anything of yours, Goddess – does she?" _I'm talking to one of the Great Gods. My life took a very strange turn when I met Daine._

"Bringing the dead animals back," Daine explained, yawning, reminding Numair what had actually started this whole mess. It seemed so long ago he'd almost forgotten. "That part's hers. You can have it," she added, holding out her hand. "It makes me nervous."

The Hag took her hand, and white light blazed around their fingers. When the goddess let go, Daine swayed, and Numair tightened his arm around her as she leaned against him, trembling. Kitten whistled indignantly, her scales turning pink as she approached.

"Oh, stop it," the goddess drawled. "She's just a bit tired. It's only to be expected."

"Goddess – will you listen to me for a moment?" The voice was Kaddar; Numair was too tired to be startled now, although he'd long since forgotten that the prince was there. Kaddar went to one knee. "Please?"

_Seems he's smarter than his uncle. _The Hag grinned, leaning on her stick. "What have you got for me, handsome?" Numair almost laughed, and felt Daine struggle not to giggle. This was the most surreal experience he had ever been through.

"Gracious lady, my uncle's palace is a shambles, its treasure burning or scattered or buried." Numair tightened his arm around Daine's shoulders, looking down at her with some amusement; she blushed slightly. Kaddar continued, "His chief mage is dead, as are many of those mages who supported him. There are people of good will in this realm, people who feared to cross my uncle while he ruled. I know the gods are angry, but – please, will you stay your hand from more destruction? Intercede for us before Mithros' court? Give us a chance to prove our worth. I represent a secret fellowship of nobles, academics and merchants who genuinely wish things to change here. Carthak is not beyond hope."

It was a very good speech. Numair felt like applauding; Lindhall had been right about Kaddar. As though the thought had summoned his former teacher, Lindhall now spoke. "Your Imperial Majesty," he said in tones of deep respect, bowing low.

"So he is," Numair remarked, belatedly realising. Releasing Daine, he bowed as well, and she copied him while stifling a yawn. The Hag turned to look at her.

"What do you recommend? Seems to me, since you did the hard work, you ought to have a say." Numair smiled a little at that, draping his arm around her shoulders once more. Daine thought about it, trying and failing to stop another yawn; he wished she'd stop that, since it reminded him of how tired he himself was and he was soon trying not to yawn himself.

"Give him the chance," Daine answered eventually, leaning against him. "Prince – _Emperor _Kaddar, I s'pose – he cares about the land and the people. If you gods were only interested in destroying the empire, not saving it, you wouldn't have waited to use me. You'd have gotten on with it."

The Hag grinned and looked at the badger. "You were right about her. Sharp as a Shang blade, she is." Numair smiled in agreement, watching as the goddess looked upwards. "Well, my brothers and sisters? What do you think? I say let's give 'em the benefit of a doubt."

There was a long silence, before a breeze stirred the dust. A strong earthy scent filled the air, and thunder rolled in the distance before crashing deafeningly above their heads. Then it started raining, although that description utterly failed to convey the sheer volume of water pouring down on them. It was raining so hard that Numair could barely see, and his shirt was plastered to his body within seconds. _Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. _ Shaking wet hair back from his eyes, he wiped his face with his free hand.

"Very good," the Graveyard Hag said approvingly. Numair wasn't much surprised to see that _she _wasn't even damp. The goddess stumped over to where Kaddar was still kneeling, staring upwards in shock. It almost never rained here, and usually only a faint drizzle overnight; it was quite probable that the young man had never seen a real rainstorm before. "Get up. Silly for a ruler to kneel in a cloudburst." Kaddar obeyed, somewhat dazed, and the Hag fixed him with a stern eye. "I hope your memory is better than Ozorne's, sonny. I won't be ignored! Not in my own empire! Now, give me your arm. We need to talk."

Meekly, Kaddar bowed and did as he was told; blinking water from his eyes, Numair grinned, feeling sorry for the new emperor. "_That's _more like it," the Hag told him, starting to lead him away. "Now, don't worry about the army and the Guard. They were told to stay put or they'd risk the gods' wrath if they came to help your uncle tonight. By dawn they'll be ready to go to work. Oh, wait." The goddess turned to look back over her shoulder at Numair.

"Arram, or Numair – whatever you call yourself – put that girl to bed. She'll sleep for three days, give or take." She turned back to Kaddar. "Where was I?"

Numair missed whatever else she said to the new emperor as they walked off, looking down at Daine with concern. "Three days?"

–_It was divine power moving through her,_–the badger answered. For her part Daine took no interest in the conversation, her eyes cloudy with exhaustion as she sat down and leaned against Numair's leg, hugging her wet dragon and half-drowned marmoset. –_Sleep is all she needs,_–the animal god added as Daine's eyes closed. He looked up at Numair. –_You both did well. Go home. I'll see you again._–Silver fire bloomed, and he was gone.

Numair turned and looked at Lindhall, smiling wryly. Both men were soaked to the skin, utterly in shock from everything that had happened, and nearing exhaustion. "Well, we survived."

"Just about," Lindhall agreed, smiling back. "Don't take this the wrong way, Numair, but I don't think I want to see you again for a while. My life gets horribly, painfully interesting when you're around."

Numair laughed softly. "You wait until you get to Tortall."

"What do we do now?"

He looked down at Daine. "If you could carry Kitten and Zek, I'll take Daine. Let's at least get out of the rain and find out how much of the palace is still standing. Then I need to call Alanna and let her know we're alive, so the ship can come back and pick us up. Then I'm going to sleep, and the first person to disturb me is going to be thrown across the city into the harbour." Lindhall laughed in heartfelt agreement and bent down to Kitten, who allowed herself to be picked up, Zek scrambling onto the shoulder not currently occupied by Bonedancer. Numair snickered at his friend; it was an extremely peculiar sight. Carefully he lifted Daine, cradling her against his chest; she didn't react in any way, so deeply asleep he doubted anything could wake her now.

The two men began trudging through the downpour towards the remains of the imperial palace, one carrying an unconscious girl, one carrying a dragon, a marmoset and an animated skeleton. After only a few paces Numair started to laugh helplessly; the past few days had been so ridiculously unbelievable that the only possible thing left to do was laugh about it. Lindhall looked at him and grinned, starting to laugh as well, both men close to hysteria as they walked on through the rain.

* * *

_My goodness, this was an action-packed chapter. Poor Numair; after all those days of frantically worrying himself half to death, in the end all he could do was stand and wait and watch. At least Rikash was on his side! I like writing him, I have to say, and it's always fun having someone tease our hero – you get the impression that Rikash too knows more than Numair does about a certain wildmage. Numair really should know better than to believe Daine can't possibly do anything more shocking, though – every time he thinks that, something unbelievable happens._

_Sadly, this is all the closure that Numair ever really gets. I'm pretty sure he doesn't see Ozorne again, except in nightmares or visions. Numair and Daine know he's involved in the immortals war and probably the genius behind it, when it starts, but I don't think they meet him face to face until Daine kills him – I'm certain that if Numair ever saw the emperor again, he'd kill him, no matter what happened to him as a result. I've always thought it unfair that Numair wasn't there when Ozorne died. Still, making sure Ozorne knows he's lost is still pretty good, and might just have stopped Numair having a complete breakdown. Of course he's not really over it yet; I suspect there are months of nightmares and other problems ahead of him, some of which I will hopefully be covering in other stories._

_There are still quite a few loose ends to be tied up, so there will probably be two more (short) chapters of this story. I'm not ending it in the same place as the book. Next chapter sees the return of silly Numair/Alanna conversations, and some of the more interesting consequences of faking your own death. It should be a lot lighter than some of the previous chapters._

_If you haven't already, could you please swing by the Knighthood of Ficship competition forum and vote for Teacher and Power? A little bird tells me I seem to be doing quite well and I'd love for it to continue. Link is at the bottom of Chapter Seven. Thank you._

_**Loten.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_This chapter isn't quite the epilogue; the story isn't quite done yet. Here we have a number of conversations tying up loose ends; some are silly, some are uncomfortable, some are... well, take a look.

* * *

_

Eventually they had found a room in the palace that was still intact. There was a couch; Numair settled Daine onto it carefully, somewhat relieved. She wasn't particularly heavy, but he was very tired now. A velvet throw had been draped over the couch; he laid it over her and tugged his wet cloak out from underneath it. Kitten and Zek settled down by the girl's feet, watching him quietly; he spent a few moments stroking the dragon before standing again and shaking himself off like a dog. Lindhall had managed to get a fire going before leaving to find Kaddar and see what was going on; Numair didn't really care any more.

Wringing his hair out with his fingers, he peeled his shirt off and wrung that out for good measure before pulling it back on. He didn't have the energy to do anything else; he crouched by the fire instead, staring sleepily into the flames for a few moments before remembering why he needed the fire and fumbling in his pocket for the crystal that matched the one he'd given Alanna. Holding it in his fist, he pictured Alanna's face and murmured her name, sending a pulse of power into the stone.

She must have been either asleep, on deck being sick, or in the middle of a conversation with someone. It was almost ten minutes later before the fire turned purple and her voice reached him. "Numair? Is that you?"

"Hello," he told her wearily, his Gift turning the flames black as he answered.

"_Hello? _Is that all you have to say to me? We were informed of your execution three days ago!"

"The rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated," he replied after a moment, grinning, too tired even to laugh. She growled wordlessly in response.

"Start talking, laddybuck, or I'm going to come back there just to smack you."

"All right, all right. It's all over. I'm alive and well, and so is Daine. She's here with me, but she's asleep."

"Thank the gods. What happened?"

"You really won't believe me when I tell you," he said honestly. "This is definitely the strangest thing that's ever happened to me. I'll try and explain when I see you – you were planning to come back and pick us up, weren't you?"

"_Numair._"

"I'm sorry. It's been a very long few days. I don't remember being this tired before." He rubbed his eyes. "I'll tell you the full story when you get here, I should have been able to sort it all out by then. For now, you probably need to know that Ozorne's gone and Kaddar is now emperor – well, not formally yet, but he will be."

"Gone? Dead?"

"I don't think so, not yet. It's very complicated. Where are you?"

Her voice was sour. "Almost home. Now you're telling me we have to turn around and come all the way back?"

"Sorry."

"This had better be worth it."

"I promise you, you'll never hear a better story. This even beats your quest for the Dominion Jewel, I think. By the way, it's raining very hard here, so bring heavy clothing."

"Raining?"

"It's been an interesting few days. Oh, and when you see the palace, I want it very clearly understood that it was _not _my fault. Mostly."

"Numair, what have you done?"

"I haven't done anything. I swear."

"Damn you, will you give me a straight answer?"

"Yes. As soon as I have one." He relented and stopped teasing; he could have gone on in this vein all night. Or day, possibly; he'd lost track of time. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be annoying, for once. The last few days really have been terrible, and the last few hours have been so unbelievable that I might be in shock. I'm exhausted and Daine's collapsed completely. I promise, when you get here, I'll sit down and tell you everything, but right now I really need to get some sleep."

Alanna sounded cautiously sympathetic. "It was really that bad?"

_I almost died. Then I came to the brink of a total breakdown, nearly lost my sanity and could have killed everyone in a two or three hundred mile radius. I have never been so afraid, so overawed, so coldly furious, so helpless. I feel very strange right now._ He said none of this, merely smiled crookedly at the flames. "Yes. It was really that bad. But it's over now, and we're both fine. I've got to go, Alanna, I'm about to pass out."

"All right. We'll see you in a couple of days. Try not to do anything stupid – in fact, try not to do anything, please. I want the full story the moment I get off this damned ship. Sleep well."

"There's just one thing I need to say before I go."

"Don't you dare."

Numair grinned mischievously. "_I told you so." _He ended the spell before Alanna could respond, really too tired to laugh, and sat back. All but crawling across the room, he knelt by the couch to look Daine over; she seemed all right, as far as he could tell, just terribly exhausted. He sympathised. "Well, magelet, we survived after all," he told her wearily, smiling as he brushed her wet curls away from her face. "Try not to scare me like that in future, please. I'm getting too old to stand many more shocks like this."

He stretched out on the floor where he was, unable to move further even if he'd wanted to. "Kit, behave yourself for Lindhall when he comes back," he mumbled, yawning. "He's not used to dragons." She chirped softly in response, and he smiled, his eyes closing. "Good night, everyone."

* * *

Sheer exhaustion had given him a day of solid, dreamless sleep; he suspected that Lindhall had been standing guard and preventing anyone disturbing him. When he woke, his teacher had been there to talk to him; there hadn't been much to say, really. Numair couldn't care less what was going to happen in Carthak now, frankly, and he'd decided he wasn't really suited to politics. There hadn't been much to discuss, and wouldn't be until Numair had managed to sort out how he felt about everything that had happened; he had, however, asked Lindhall for one last favour.

The direct consequence of that favour was that several hours later the door to the room where Daine was sleeping was thrown open so hard that it rebounded off the wall. Wincing, Numair glanced up, knowing who he would see. "Hello, Varice."

He had never seen her look so furious. Storming across the room, she glared down at where he was sitting, then drew back her arm and slapped him – hard. "You _bastard!" _she spat.

"I know. I'm sorry," he replied quietly, recovering his balance and gingerly touching his cheek.

"_Sorry? _Do you have any idea what I went through? I went to him and begged for your life, and in return he _made me watch! _You didn't think to tell me it wasn't real? Don't you trust me?"

"I didn't tell anyone except Lindhall, and I wouldn't have told him if I hadn't needed his help." Numair rubbed the back of his neck. He'd never enjoyed this sort of conversation. "It's not you, Varice. I don't trust anyone any more, really. I'm not Arram any more."

"Obviously!" she snarled. "Arram was never cruel."

"I had no choice," he answered tiredly. "The more who knew, the greater the chance that Ozorne would have found out."

"I can't believe you'd put me through this _again! _And to send Lindhall to explain? You couldn't even tell me to my face?"

"He's better at explaining things than I am," Numair replied honestly. Still, there had been an element of cowardice to his request; he had hoped that Varice would be too angry to speak to him. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up at her. "I'm sorry. It was the only way."

She glared at him for a long moment, before staring around the room, her lip curling as she saw the still-unconscious Daine. "All this for a girl. A child. Was she worth it?"

"_Varice," _Numair said warningly, standing up slowly. "Don't. This isn't about her." Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I didn't want it to end like this," he muttered.

"No, you wanted to sneak off and leave me wondering what happened!"

"No, I didn't." He truly had no idea what to say. It seemed pointless to try too hard to fix things, when in all likelihood he would never see her again, but he had never wanted it to turn out like this. Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry you were hurt, Varice. But this wasn't about you, either. It was about protecting myself and my friends... My life is in Tortall now, not here. You knew that." That could have been phrased more kindly, but he'd never been good at this.

The anger was still in her eyes, but less intense now. Finally she sighed. "Yes, I knew that." They stared at one another silently; they stood only a couple of feet apart, but it might as well have been miles. He had no idea what else to do; there didn't seem to be anything left to say.

"I wish it had been different," he offered finally. It was all he could say. Let her see whatever she needed to see in his words; it was the least he could do.

"So do I," she said quietly. After a long moment she asked softly, "Do you... regret it?" It had obviously cost her a great deal to ask. Numair didn't hesitate in his reply.

"No." That was a lie, if he was honest with himself. But it was a lie she had needed to hear; he at least owed her that much. And in those bright years that seemed another lifetime away, she had been what he needed. It wasn't much, but it was all he could give. She nodded slowly, then turned and left without another word.

Left alone, Numair carefully touched his cheek once more; it had been a hell of a blow, he'd give her that. He would have a splendid bruise tomorrow. Then again, he surely deserved it, after his behaviour over the past fortnight. _I'd better be careful when Daine wakes up. She can hit a lot harder. _Automatically looking towards his still-unconscious student, he found both Kitten and Zek watching him intently.

"You're lucky," he told them both wryly. "Dragons and marmosets don't let themselves get into such stupid situations."

* * *

That afternoon another familiar voice greeted him from the doorway. "I came to ask how it went, but seeing your face, I think I can guess."

Numair smiled crookedly at his former teacher. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "It could have gone better."

"You should try and get something cold on that. It's starting to swell."

"It's only a bruise. I'll live. I think I got off lightly." Gently tracing the edge of the bruise, he shrugged and looked up apologetically. "I'm sorry for involving you. I thought you'd be better at breaking the news than I would be."

Lindhall shook his head, smiling. "All these years, and you still don't seem to know how to fix your mistakes when people are involved."

He laughed softly. "That's one thing you never could teach me, Lindhall. At the moment I'm just hoping that Daine and Alanna have both forgiven me; they can do a lot more damage than Varice, if they're still angry."

Lindhall came to sit beside him, greeting Kitten as she scrambled into his lap. "I always knew you'd end up as someone important, if you didn't kill yourself first. But sitting here listening to you talk about the Lioness as though she's your sister... It's hard to adjust. I close my eyes and see the stubborn twelve year old boy arguing with me over the correct pronunciation of Thak runes or protesting the need to stop work for the day, then I open them and see one of the most famous mages in the world. It's confusing, I must admit."

Pleased by the compliment, Numair smiled hesitantly. "It still takes me by surprise sometimes, too," he agreed quietly. "My life is very strange, but I'm happy." He stretched his legs out in front of him. "On that subject, my offer still stands. Have you thought about it?"

"I have," Lindhall replied slowly. The silence between the two men stretched out; Numair felt no impulse to break it. Silence with Lindhall had always been surprisingly restful; the older man gave the impression of endless patience. Finally his friend turned to look at him. "Kaddar will be sorry to see me leave, but he says I have more than earned the right to move on, if Tortall will have me."

Numair grinned, overjoyed. "That's wonderful, Lindhall. Really. You'll be invaluable in Tortall; they need more scholars, instead of insane mages constantly racing all over the country on missions most people only half believe."

The two men laughed, and Lindhall shook his head. "I won't be returning with you, though. I need to sort out my affairs here. It will be a month or two before I'm free, I expect."

"I'll do my best to be there when you arrive, but I can't promise anything. Harailt will look after you if I'm not around; he's a good partner to debate with, you won't be bored. And if we're not out on the road, you can talk to Daine; she should have woken up by then," he added dryly, glancing affectionately at the still-sleeping girl on the other side of the room.

Lindhall followed his gaze, a thoughtful expression in his blue eyes. "She is almost exactly what I expected. You described her very clearly and at some length... more than any of your other friends," he said slowly. "Numair..."

"Yes?" He looked back at his teacher, and after a moment frowned, puzzled. "What?"

His friend hesitated, then shook his head and smiled. "Never mind. We can talk about it another time. We _have _time, now. Although at this particular moment I have people to talk to, so I should leave. I'll see you again before you go, I hope; if not, I'll see you before winter."

* * *

By the time the Tortallans arrived a day later, Numair and Daine had been relocated and were now at the university. It was probably just as well; the skeletons had been _very _thorough, and most of the palace was structurally unsound even if it was nominally still standing. She had slept through the move and was still sleeping now; Numair wasn't too worried, given the Hag and the badger had both said it was normal, but he'd still like Alanna to take a look at her.

For his part, he felt more or less his old self once more. Still tired, and his dreams at night were extremely unpleasant, but he felt in control of himself again. He had no interest whatsoever in the future of Carthak; the others were diplomats, they could sort things out with the new emperor. All he wanted now was to go home. He spent the time in Daine's room, playing with Kitten and thinking about everything that had happened, or talking with Lindhall.

Numair was standing outside to greet his friends when they arrived. It was still raining; not the cloudburst of two days before, but a steady, soaking drizzle. He was smiling when he saw them; part of him had wondered whether he'd ever see them again. It seemed the feeling was mutual; Alanna actually hugged him, surprisingly.

"Welcome back," he told Duke Gareth dryly over his friend's head, hugging her back before letting go. "Do come in out of the rain. I'm afraid your quarters won't be quite so luxurious this time; we're a little pushed for space. His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Kaddar will be pleased to see you when you're settled."

"So you say," Gareth responded equally dryly, "but you're a notorious criminal and therefore untrustworthy in the extreme." The two smiled and shook hands. "It's good to see you alive. Alanna, go with him and get the whole story out of him, please. We'll see you later."

As soon as they were alone, the Lioness rounded on him. "What did you do to the palace? We saw the remains on our way here."

"I told you, that wasn't my fault," he defended himself, grinning. "I swear, I didn't do anything to the palace."

"Then who did?"

"Daine." Numair took a moment to enjoy the shock on Alanna's face.

"_Daine _did that? How, why?"

"Remember the vulture?"

"It's proving very difficult to forget."

"Well, think larger. Did you ever see the Hall of Bones while you were here?"

"The Hall of – Mithros and the Goddess both, Numair! Are you telling me that Daine raised dinosaurs from the dead and got them to tear half the palace down?"

"Yes," he answered succinctly. "I _did _tell you it was difficult to believe. Come on, I'll take you to see her, then I'll try and tell you everything. She's still asleep; could you take a look and make sure it's just exhaustion?"

"Still asleep?"

"She's been very busy recently," he replied dryly, opening the door to Daine's room.

"Clearly." The Lioness examined Daine carefully; she still didn't wake, or even stir. "Just exhausted, from what I can tell. She's not hurt." Sitting down, she glared up at Numair. "No more stalling. Tell me what happened."

He sat next to her, Kitten climbing into his lap. Petting the dragon absently, he took a deep breath; it was going to be a very long story.

* * *

_I have to admit, this chapter was quite fun to write. I have a feeling that our hero would almost rather go another round with Ozorne than have to face Varice. I tried not to bash her too much, but I still have a lot of problems with her as a character, and I'm very glad that I don't have to write her again (unless I manage some stories about Arram, I suppose, but that will be a very long way off)._

_Look, more silly Numair/Alanna conversations! We're not quite done with those yet. And this is probably the last time you'll see Lindhall for a very long time, since he's not in Realms of the Gods at all. It's going to be a long way in the future before we reach any other stories involving him, sadly._

_This chapter was pretty short, I admit. The next chapter will be even shorter, since that will be the final chapter of this story and one of my trademark fluffy epilogues. And after that, we start the final book of the quartet, and I'm certain it's the favourite book of almost all of you. So, the more you review this, the sooner we get there!_

_**Loten.**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Edit May 2010: **FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to)._

* * *

_This is it, folks, the epilogue at last. I was going to update yesterday, but I went to see Harry Potter instead. Sorry!

* * *

_

"You're right," Alanna said faintly when he was done. "I think that does beat the story of the Dominion Jewel."

"I told you so."

"You're not going to stop saying that any time soon, are you?"

"Of course I'm not. If you think it's annoying now, wait until I see Jon again. You both owe me for making me come back here and I intend to milk it for all it's worth."

She sighed. "I'd like to argue with you, but I suppose you're right. It was a mistake. How much of this did you know in advance?"

"Nothing. I knew Ozorne would try and kill me, which is why I prepared the simulacrum – I wish you could have seen it, it was probably the best work I've ever done – but everything else was a lovely surprise. Believe me, I would have told you if I'd known any of this was coming. And there would have been no way I'd have got on the ship."

"I'd like to talk to Lindhall later, but that can wait. The Graveyard Hag, huh?" She looked at the sleeping Daine. "Poor girl. The Mother Goddess was more than enough for me; somehow I don't think the Hag was as friendly."

"Actually, I think in a strange way she quite liked Daine," Numair mused, smiling. "It's a strange feeling, watching your friend argue with a goddess."

"I'll bet." Alanna looked at him. "Are you all right?" she asked softly. "I can understand why Lindhall seemed so worried about you. I've never seen you like that before either."

"I don't really know. I suppose I won't know until more time has passed. But I do feel a lot more like myself again now," he assured her. "I think I'm all right. It's been a strange and frightening few days, but it's over now, and we'll be going home soon."

"And Daine tore down half the palace to avenge you," Alanna mused. "What would you have done if she'd been killed?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "A lot more than that. I'd like to think I could have restrained myself, but I think her death would have sent me over the edge. I suspect I would have destroyed half the continent before the gods managed to stop me."

"You really do care for her, don't you."

"Don't _you _start. Lindhall's been giving me meaningful looks for days. Of course I care for her; she's my closest friend, the main part of my life. I've got no family worth speaking of, and of all my friends she understands me the best. More than even you do. So of course I care; but that's all it is."

"Hmm," she replied sceptically. "If you say so."

"I do," he said firmly, before smiling ruefully. "In any case, I think I should stay away from women – _all _women – for a while," he added, rubbing his cheek.

"I did notice your bruise. What happened?"

"I'd like to claim it was an honourable war wound, but sadly no. Let's just say that Varice was _extremely _unhappy to learn what happened." He grinned sheepishly as Alanna started to laugh. "I never realised she could hit that hard," he added, flushing slightly as he joined in her laughter.

"You do know how to pick 'em, don't you. I take it she won't be joining us?"

"Hm? Oh, no. Truthfully, it didn't occur to me to ask," he admitted. "She's happy here."

"There's no future for the two of you?"

"There never was," he replied, somewhat puzzled by the sudden interest. "I'm not blind, Alanna, and I do know what she's like. I know far too many strong heroic women; if I ever do someday settle down, it won't be with anyone like Varice. You, Thayet, Onua, Daine and Buri have made sure of that."

"So I see."

"Stop that." He shook his head. "Honestly, woman. I've just told you a wonderful tale full of gods, necromancy, battles, death and the fall of an emperor, and all you can focus on is my love life or lack thereof." He grinned in sudden mischief. "You are _such _a girl." Trapped by Kitten's weight in his lap, he couldn't duck out of range as she smacked him. Putting the dragon down, he scrambled up. "Wait until I tell George."

"Oh, shut up. Have you slept at all recently? You're only ever this silly when you're tired."

"Nonsense. I'm this silly all the time. Ask Daine when she wakes up."

"Numair."

"I've slept. Lindhall's been acting like a mother hen on your behalf. Really, I'm fine," he assured her, more seriously now. "A few nightmares, that's all, and I've been having those for months. I'll be fine once we're home."

"All right. You'd better go get some rest; Jon wants you to contact him by fire and tell him the whole story later. Are you going to be part of the negotiations this time?"

Numair smiled. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want to do any more damage. It's going to be fine; Kaddar wants peace as much as we do. You don't need me and I'd probably do more harm than good. I think I worry him."

"I can't imagine why," Alanna said sarcastically, shaking her head and smiling at him as she stood. "So what are you going to do with yourself?"

He shrugged. "Get some rest and then report to my king. Daine should be awake tomorrow, the next day at the latest. Truthfully, I just want to go home."

* * *

In the end Numair found himself dragged into the negotiations against his will; Alanna had decided he needed something to do to occupy himself, since clearly he could not be trusted alone. The situation was somewhat ludicrous; many of Kaddar's staff had been at his execution, and spent the entire time giving him wide-eyed looks. More than a few made the Sign against evil when he walked past, but he was used to that. Even in Tortall there were some who reacted the same way.

Four days after the fight was over, Daine finally woke up. Much to his annoyance, Numair wasn't there, and in fact didn't get to see her until that evening, being kept busy right up until the new treaty was signed. While everyone else was celebrating, he tapped at her half-open door and looked in. "Hello, magelet. Awake at last?"

Daine was sitting on the bed with Kitten and Zek. Looking up, she smiled to see him. "Hello. Yes, just about. Aren't you supposed to be with the others?"

He made a face, leaning against the doorframe. "Probably, but for some reason Kaddar and his ministers don't seem very keen on my company. Apparently faking your own death doesn't encourage making friends. Why, do you want to get rid of me already? That must be a record."

She grinned at him. "Serve you right if I did."

Numair felt his smile fade. "I know. I'm sorry. I really did think I'd told you. I would never have let you go through that if I'd realised." He had wondered briefly if the Hag had interfered again, to make sure that Daine had the incentive to go through with it at the end, but something told him that this particular piece of stupidity was all his own.

"It's all right. You had a lot else to think about. Besides, I'm used to you," she added dryly. "You're forgetful enough when you're _not _panicking." He smiled sheepishly at her.

"How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Relieved that it's over," she answered honestly, then shrugged and smiled. "I feel fine. I'm not really tired any more, and I wasn't hurt. You?"

"More or less the same. The treaty's just been signed, anyway, so hopefully we can start for home soon."

"That's the best news I've heard in months."

* * *

By the time the Tortallan party was ready to leave, their numbers had increased dramatically. True to form, Daine had managed to cause chaos, persuading Kaddar to free a number of slaves; the Banjiku, their animals, and the emperor's mutes. Numair had been vaguely gratified to learn that he still remembered their sign language, since he'd been called to interpret; not all of them had wanted to leave. Lord Martin was still in a state of apoplectic rage over all the trouble that had been caused; Numair was watching him now, dreaming wistfully of 'accidentally' knocking the old noble overboard once they left the harbour. Kaddar had come to see them off – to make quite sure that they were gone, Numair suspected – and was talking to Daine nearby.

"When's the coronation?" Daine asked. Numair felt a claw press lightly against his leg and bent to pick Kitten up, letting the dragon look over the rail, pretending that he wasn't listening.

"Full moon. I wish you could be there."

"I don't," Numair told the dragon quietly; apparently not quietly enough, as Daine kicked him – fortunately far more gently than on previous occasions. As far as he could judge, Kitten looked amused; he scowled at the dragon.

"You'll write?" Kaddar asked Daine as he turned to leave. "You promise?"

"I'll write," she agreed, turning to look towards the palace as the new emperor reached the dock once more. "Your Imperial Majesty? Kaddar!" she called down to him, walking to the rail and standing beside Numair.

The emperor looked up. "Yes?"

"About the palace? I wouldn't rebuild over there, if I were you. You're going to have a dreadful problem with pests, and no dogs or cats will stay in it." She sounded suspiciously innocent; Numair frowned, scanning the shore and noticing that there seemed to be an unusually large number of rats in view.

"Pests?" Kaddar repeated, looking puzzled. The captain raised his voice and called the order to cast off; Numair shifted Kitten to the crook of one arm and lifted a hand in farewell as Daine waved. The ship shuddered beneath them and began to move, running swiftly before the morning breeze as it began to rain once more.

"Where do the rats come into it?" he murmured softly, lifting his eyes to the ruined towers of the palace and watching it recede as they crossed the harbour. Daine smiled.

"The power to wake the dinosaurs came from them; it would've killed me to raise 'em all by myself. In exchange, I got the cats and dogs to promise not to hunt in the palace or on the grounds for a year."

Numair laughed softly, crouching to put Kitten down before standing once more, both hands resting lightly on the rail as he watched Carthak being left behind. "I see. Poor Kaddar. Between the palace, the treasury, the records, the slaves and what you did to the Army of the North, you've cost him a ridiculous amount of money. It's going to take years for this place to recover from our visit."

She blushed as he grinned at her. "It was partly your fault, you know."

"I'm sure that's an enormous comfort to the new emperor and his ministers," Numair replied dryly. "Besides, I'm not sure they'd dare to try and arrest me again."

She giggled. "Well, it doesn't seem to work very well." Turning, she looked up at him as the ship passed the harbour mouth and the wind freshened. "How does it feel to be leaving again?"

"Well, it's an improvement over the last time I left," he replied flippantly. Shrugging, he smiled down at her. "If you're asking whether I'll miss anything... no, I won't. I was never really happy here. I wasn't actively miserable, most of the time, but it was never home, not the way Tortall is. The only person I ever missed was Lindhall, and he's going to be joining us in a few weeks when he's organised his things."

"He is?" she asked, delighted. Numair grinned.

"Yes. Be warned, if you're still in the palace when he arrives he'll corner you and you won't get away for weeks. He's worse than I am."

"I don't believe _that _for a second," she retorted, and he laughed. His reply was cut off by Alanna, walking past them both and heading for the rail a little way along, her mouth clenched so tightly shut that her lips were white; catching Daine's eye, Numair grinned wryly, knowing that he'd be joining her sooner or later. They left the Lioness to her sea-sickness in peace, wandering across the deck to the far side.

"What about you?" he asked lightly. "Going to miss anything? Or any_one_?"

"Shut up, Numair," she told him warningly. "Besides, what about Varice, hm?"

He made a face at her. "Fine, I'll behave. It was a serious question though, more or less."

She turned and looked back towards Carthak once more, then shook her head. "No. Like I told Alanna, I don't like the person I've been here. I'm happy it's over." Hesitating, she looked at him. "What will everyone at home say?"

"Nothing worth listening to," he replied, leaning on the rail. "There will be a lot of rumours, there's no way to avoid it, but nobody who knows the truth of what happened here will say anything, and your friends won't let it get out of hand. You know that."

"I know. I just... I don't like folk treating me like I'm something to be afraid of."

"Welcome to my life," he answered distantly, and she touched his arm in apology.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Numair shook his head and smiled down at her. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it. And you won't be the only one who sparks rumours this time; at least you weren't executed. And I was acting somewhat aggressively while I tried to find out what had happened to you," he added with a sheepish smile, before turning serious and reaching for her hand.

"Daine, listen to me. You've done nothing to be ashamed of. Now, or ever. Ask Alanna; nobody can argue with what the gods decide. You had no choice, and you coped admirably. It could have been a lot worse. Yes, it was terrible, and I can only imagine how frightening it must have been, but it's over now. You couldn't have done more. I'm proud of you, and so are all your friends. Your magic will lead you down strange paths, as mine does, but you don't have to face any of it alone."

Looking up at him, she wiped rain from her face, and they both quietly pretended that it was just rain. She'd been through so much recently that she was entitled to cry if she wanted to. After a moment she smiled, a little shakily, and he squeezed her fingers before letting go.

"Come on, magelet. Let's find the others. We're on our way home."

**THE END.

* * *

**

_You all know by now that I can't resist a fluffy ending! Numair's not quite as clueless as he seems – he sort of knows what some of his friends are thinking, he just doesn't realise they're right. And I know Daine's reaction is extremely mild, but remember, she's somewhat in shock as well right now – she's been through a lot recently. She needs her best friend more than she needs to be angry. As well, she knows how distracted Numair can get, and she has an idea of what it cost him to come back to Carthak. I assure you that once all the shock wears off, once they're both home and recovering, she makes him pay quite heavily for being such an idiot – but you're not going to see that story for a very long time yet. We've another book to get through first._

_And so we reach the end of Emperor Mage. Next update will be a new story as we begin Realms of the Gods, so make sure you have me on author alert if you want to read it as soon as it shows up. I'm well aware of how much you've all been looking forward to it! (Psst. Don't forget to vote for Teacher and Power in the Knighthood of Ficship contest, please? Details at the bottom of Chapter 7.)_

_I'd just like to end by thanking you all once again for staying with me. Writing this series has been one of the best experiences of my life, because of the reception it's had from all of you. For the final book I'd like to see more reviews from those who added me to alerts and favourites but didn't say just what it was they liked about my work. Most of my reviewers have been with me right from the start, and that's absolutely wonderful. You're all utterly insane, and I adore you all. Thank you._

_**Loten.**_


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